INTERLOPERS 


■ 


U 


216C 


THE  INTERLOPERS 


"I  want  to  have  you  with  me  always." 


THE  INTERLOPERS 


A  NOVEL 


By 
GRIFFING  BANCROFT 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

ARTHUR  D.  FULLER 


New  York 

The  Bancroft  Company,  Publishers 

1917 


ift 


Copyright,  1917,  by  Griffing  Bancroft 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  New  Doctor  Comes  to  Rosario  ...  1 

II  The  Christmas  Storm 15 

III  J.  P.  Butler  &  Co 26 

IV  Sam  Coulters  Plays  Politics 43 

V  Love  at  Sunrise 56 

VI  The  Rosario  School 68 

VII  Robert  Hollington's  Ideals 82 

VIII  Gossip  and  Courtship 94 

IX  An  Angry  Father 106 

X  The   Breach 119 

XI  Coulters  Stumps  the  State 135 

XII  Hollington  Visits  the  Indians     ....  148 

XIII  Frances  Goes  to.  San  Clemente    ....  162 

XIV  Coulters  Gets  His  Land  Law     ....  176 
XV  The  Japanese  Pupils  Return 189 

XVI  The  Dance  in  San  Clemente 202 

XVII  Hollington  Goes  Fishing 214 

XVIII  Dorothy  Teaches  School 229 

XIX  Frances  Comes  Home 242 

XX  The  Black  Scale 255 

XXI  Frances  and  Kotingo 267 

XXII  Dorothy  Tibbetts'  Wedding 280 

XXIII  The  Other  Woman 293 

XXIV  The  Collapse  of  Donald  Scott     ....  305 
XXV  The  Decline  of  Hollington 319 

XXVI  Arrest  of  Clem  Harding 327 

XXVII  The  Last  Trench 341 

XXVIII  Irving  Stanhope's  Sermon 354 

XXIX  Love's  Clearing  House 364 

XXX  Hanba  Coerces  Sam  Coulters 376 

XXXI  The  Bubonic  Plague 386 


2134313 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"I  want  to  have  you  with  me  always"  .     .     .     Frontispiece 

"The  time  spent  with  him  became  the  hours  to  which 

she  looked  forward" 235 

"Drop  that  gun!" 335 

"When   barely   two   yards   separated   them,    Robert's 

hand  shot  out  of  his  coat  pocket" 387 


tgfe  Interlopers 

CHAPTER  I 

A  New  Doctor  Comes  to  Rosario 


HE  San  Diego  and  Eden  Valley  train 
stopped  noisily  to  drop  a  single  passenger  at 
Rosario.  The  station  was  on  a  barren  hill- 
side, a  mile  or  more  from  the  nearest  house. 
The  only  persons  about  were  the  agent, 
talking  lazily  to  the  engineer,  and  a  rather  elderly 
man  in  overalls  and  jumper  holding  the  lines  over  a 
pair  of  farm  horses.  These  were  harnessed  to  a 
spring  wagon,  a  dilapidated,  weather-worn  vehicle 
that  had  not  seen  a  coat  of  paint  since  leaving  the 
factory. 

The  passenger,  a  carefully  groomed  young  man, 
obviously  from  the  eastern  coast,  walked  up  to  the 
driver  and  asked : — 

"Are  you  Mr.  Coulters'  man?" 
"Yes.     Sam  sent  me.     Wait  until  they  get  your 
stuff  off  the  train,  and  I'll  drive  you  home.    Are  you 
our  new  doctor?" 

Soon  the  two  were  off  toward  the  valley.     They 

occupied  the  single  seat  in  front;  the  rear,  designed 

like  a  small  delivery  wagon,  was  filled  with  baggage. 

The   driver  was  meditatively   enjoying  his   plug 

tobacco ;  the  passenger  was  absorbed  in  the  first  im- 

(1) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

pressions  of  his  new  environment.  The  air  was 
hot,  the  road  thickly  powdered,  and  the  incandescent 
dust  enveloped  them. 

So  this  was  the  famous  southern  California,  that 
called  and  called  again  to  all  who  had  ever  made  it 
their  home.  Where  was  the  charm?  Surely  not 
in  these  barren  plains  and  denuded  hills  that 
stretched  off  toward  the  north-west. 

"It's  the  wrong  time  of  day,"  broke  in  a  voice  on 
his  right,  "and  the  wrong  time  of  the  year.  You'll 
learn  to  love  these  hills  some  time;  everybody  does. 
You  see  how  ugly  they  can  be;  I've  lived  among 
them  so  long  that  I  know  how  beautiful  they  can  be. 
Do  you  judge  a  woman  as  she  displays  herself  in 
evening  dress  or  as  she  appears  in  the  morning  at 
breakfast?  These  hills  can't  be  going  to  a  party 
all  the  time." 

The  easterner  fairly  gasped.  Then  he  looked 
about  again,  sighed  and  shook  his  head.  He  wasn't 
expecting  philosophic  discourse,  and  he  didn't  know 
just  how  to  take  it. 

"You  can  see  most  of  Rosario  from  here,"  con- 
tinued the  native,  who  did  not  relish  even  a  silent 
criticism  of  his  mountains.  "There's  only  a  little  of 
it  past  that  bend.  They  grow  oranges  mostly;  some 
lemons  and  some  olives,  but  nearly  all  those  fruit 
trees  are  oranges.  Can  you  make  out  that  water 
tower  away  off  there  to  the  right?  It's  just  in  line 
now  with  the  bunch  of  eucalyptus  across  the  valley. 
That's  Sam  Coulters'  place.  Mine  is  the  first  one 
over  on  your  left,  almost  under  our  feet." 

(2) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

"Yours  looks  like  a  snug  little  place.  Doesn't 
it  require  all  of  your  time?" 

"I  can't  get  more  than  taxes  and  interest  out  of 
it.  I  had  to  put  a  mortgage  on  it  during  the  dry 
years.  So  now  when  I  want  to  eat  I  have  to  work 
outside,  usually  for  Sani.  At  the  time  of  the  big 
slump  I  thought  I'd  lose  it,  but  I'm  hanging  on  to 
that  little  old  place,  for  it's  the  only  home  I've  ever 
had.  And  this  year  I'm  going  to  make  some  money 
on  it." 

"You've  not  always  lived  in  Rosario,  have  you?" 

Clem  Harding,  the  driver,  was  always  glad  of  an 
opportunity  to  talk  about  himself.  He  chatted  on 
for  some  time  about  his  early  days  when  he  "fol- 
lowed the  cows"  all  over  the  great  west,  and  about 
his  experiences  in  prospecting,  from  Canada  to  be- 
low the  Mexican  line.  And  he  knew  quite  a  bit 
of  frontier  times  and  frontier  towns  when  the  lid 
was  off,  and  life  was  cheap  and  tense. 

So  a  pleasant  half  hour  slipped  by,  while  the  lum- 
bering draft-horses  descended  to  the  floor  of  the  val- 
ley. The  young  doctor  was  enjoying  himself,  though 
without  any  change  of  sentiment  toward  the  coun- 
try. He  was  waiting  now  until  they  should  be 
among  the  orchards;  there  it  must  be  that  lay  the 
charm  of  this  great  southwest. 

The  first  cultivated  land  they  came  to  was  a  bar- 
ley field,  several  hundred  acres  on  either  side  of  the 
road.  And  then  a  dog  emerged  from  the  shadows 
of  the  wagon,  a  large,  rangy,  black  greyhound. 

"That's  Nig,"  said  Harding.  "He's  a  good  old 
(3) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

scout.  He'll  not  let  a  jack  rabbit  stay  in  the  valley, 
and  he's  getting  to  be  the  best  squirrel  dog  I've  ever 
seen." 

"Those  little  brown  things  really  are  squirrels? 
It's  hard  to  realize  it.  Those  at  home  live  in  trees 
and  are  so  much  prettier." 

"Like  the  ones  we  have  in  the  mountains  among 
the  pines.  I  just  love  those,  and  I  wouldn't  let  Nig 
worry  them.  He  can't  catch  them,  however,  and  I 
think  they  all  enjoy  the  game.  But  these  ground 
squirrels  are  pests.  Their  holes  have  broken  many 
a  good  horse's  leg.     And  look  at  that  grain." 

It  was  well  worth  more  than  a  cursory  glance. 
Shoulder  high  and  dead  ripe,  it  stirred  luxuriantly 
in  the  afternoon  breeze.  Little  gusts  of  wind  could 
be  traced  on  its  surface,  when  the  stalk  heads  ducked 
and  sported  and  changed  color  faster  than  the  eye 
could  follow. 

"Those  vermin  lead  a  happy  life  until  they  get 
the  poison,"  Clem  went  on.  "Mr.  Squirrel  digs  a 
hole  and  sits  on  the  dump  to  enjoy  the  weather. 
When  meal  time  comes,  or  when  he  wants  to  put 
away  a  winter  supply  of  food  he  starts  at  his 
front  door  and  takes  what  is  nearest.  See  those 
round  spots;  some  of  them  thirty  feet  across,  where 
every  blade  of  grass  is  gone?  That's  why  he's  so 
unpopular  with  the  farmer.  When  he's  in  his  hole 
he's  safe,  and  when  he's  sitting  beside  it  all  he  has 
to  do  for  self-protection  is  to  let  himself  drop. 
Even  when  he's  rustling  he  takes  no  chances,  for  he 
can  hear  anything  in  the  grain  and  see  anything  in 

(4) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

the  sky,  and  he  never  goes  far  from  home.  He 
can't  get  absent  minded  or  careless,  for  his  neigh- 
bors just  enjoy  barking  at  an  enemy  as  soon  as  one 
comes  over  the  sky  line." 

"You  said  that  Nig  was  a  good  squirrel  dog. 
How  in  the  world  does  he  catch  them?" 

"Curiosity." 

"Curiosity?" 

"Children  and  Chinamen  haven't  it  all,  by  any 
means.  It  has  spoiled  more  poker  plays  and  killed 
more  squirrels — but  I'll  see  if  I  can  show  you.  Nig 
seems  to  know  what  we're  talking  about." 

Keen  and  alert,  the  dog  looked  at  his  master, 
then,  at  the  word,  plunged  into  the  grain-field.  He 
was  at  once  lost  to  view,  and  for  some  time  could 
be  followed  only  by  the  noise  and  the  movement  of 
the  stalks.  A  loud,  metallic  squeaking  heralded  the 
attack. 

"Now  watch  that  dog!" 

Nig  had  made  a  leap  high  enough  to  carry  him 
above  the  grain.  He  struck  the  ground  running, 
ventre  a  terre.  A  squirrel  sitting  above  his  burrow 
scolded  viciously  at  a  rustle  in  the  grain  which  he 
couldn't  understand.  Suddenly  a  black  thunder  bolt 
tore  through  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  With  a 
frightened  cry  the  rodent  instinctively  dropped  to 
safety.  But  he  had  waited  too  long.  A  black  muz- 
zle followed  him  into  the  hole.  He  was  jerked  out 
and  tossed  ten  feet  into  the  air.  By  the  time  he  was 
scrambling  once  more  for  his  hole  the  pursuer  had 
turned  and  caught  him. 

(5) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Nig  made  several  unsuccessful  attempts  to. repeat 
this  achievement;  then  he  did  kill  once  more  in  the 
same  way.  Clem  called  him  back  after  that.  The 
wagon  had  passed  the  barley  field  and  was  now 
coming  to  a  truck  garden. 

Given  the  proper  contrasts  and  perspective,  one 
of  the  prettiest  colors  in  nature  is  found  in  fresh 
plowed  adobe.  This  is  especially  true  when,  as  in 
this  case,  the  earth  is  red,  shading  from  almost  gray 
in  sandy  spots  to  the  rich,  lustrous  black  of  the  king 
of  soils.  Add  row  after  row  of  delicate  green,  with 
just  a  suggestion  of  motion  among  the  leaves  and 
flowers,  and  in  the  sluggish  threads  of  irrigation 
and  there  is  the  material  for  a  picture. 

Art  appeals  to  some;  tastes  and  training  vary. 
Beauty  finds  a  response  more  in  temperament  than 
in  education.  Robert  Hollington  at  once  fell  under 
the  spell  of  this  simple  pastoral  scene;  it  was  one 
of  those  rare  gems  of  nature  which  so  impress  the 
mind  that  recollection  in  some  form  remains  for- 
ever. 

For  a  few  hundred  feet  the  road  here  runs 
straight,  then  turns  sharply  to  the  right.  A  cluster 
of  three  or  four  giant  eucalypts  on  the  left;  on  the 
right  a  drooping  pepper,  and  the  California  sky,  in- 
comparable when  clouded.  The  background  all 
glistening  soil  in  brilliant  colors.  The  Japanese 
gardener  is  pushing  a  hand  cultivator  along  the  nar- 
row furrows.  At  a  little  distance  are  his  wife  and 
three  small  children.    The  figures  are  too  diminutive 

(6) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

to  make  their  costumes  distinguishable,  but  their 
posture  while  weeding  is  a  bit  of  old  Japan. 

The  two  men  in  the  wagon  are  watching  the  scene 
intently;  each  knows  the  other  is  doing  so,  and  each 
thinks  the  better  of  him  because  of  it. 

"There's  one  thing  about  this  I  don't  like,"  said 
Clem,  half  to  himself.  "That  woman  ought  to  be 
making  a  home  for  her  family,  and  those  babies 
ought  to  be  playing,  or  studying." 

The  road  led  through  the  first  of  the  orchards, 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  drive  there  were  citrus  groves 
on  one  side  or  the  other,  usually  both.  With  Clem's 
help  Hollington  was  soon  able  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  lighter  green  of  the  lemon  and  the  rich 
velvety  shade  of  the  orange,  and  to  recognize  the 
citron,  the  olive,  and  the  walnut.  The  subtle  mark- 
ings and  shades  of  color  that  distinguished  the  va- 
rious varieties  of  the  same  fruit  were  beyond  his 
grasp,  though  an  open  book  to  his  companion. 

The  lemon  and  orange  trees  were  usually  from 
ten  to  twenty  feet  high,  and  planted  twenty-five  feet 
apart.  They  were  pruned  to  resemble  an  inverted 
cup,  the  foliage  often  being  brought  down  quite  close 
to  the  ground.  The  object  was  to  get  the  greatest 
possible  area  of  leaves  exposed  to  the  sun  and  the 
air,  and  to  shade  the  ground  around  the  trunk. 

The  sun  was  sinking,  taking  the  light  breeze  with 
it;  the  dust  no  longer  rose  as  high  as  the  wagon  seat. 
The  air  was  filled  with  the  rich  perfume  of  the 
orange  blossom,  blended  at  times  when  it  drifted 
across  half  harvested  oat  or  alfalfa.    The  ornamen- 

(7) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

tal  trees  by  the  roadside  threw  long  shadows;  the 
most  beautiful  time  of  the  day  had  come.  Conver- 
sation ceased  in  that  old  spring  wagon.  Clem  was 
off  in  the  mountains  again,  with  pick  and  pack  train. 
Hollington  was  lazily  absorbing  the  contentment 
that  had  made  a  race  of  speculators  and  dreamers. 

Both  men  came  to  themselves  when  the  horses 
left  the  county  road.  Before  them  lay  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  of  a  gardened  driveway.  Palms  on  either 
side  half  hid  the  orange  trees  beyond,  and  flowers 
of  all  colors  and  degree  were  growing  in  a  profusion 
little  short  of  wanton  to  the  New  Yorker.  At  the 
farther  end  was  a  clump  of  magnificent  peppers. 
Through  their  long  spreading  branches  there  could 
just  be  distinguished  a  feature  here  and  there  of  the 
house  they  sheltered.  It  soon  revealed  itself,  an 
attractive  bungalow,  a  rambling  wooden  structure, 
with  an  attic  and  a  porch.  The  veranda,  always 
shaded  and  cool,  fragrant  with  honeysuckle  and 
climbing  rose,  was  clearly  the  family  hearth.  Some 
simple  wicker  furniture  was  scattered  about;  a  damp 
olla  with  an  inviting  tin  dipper  was  hanging  in  a 
corner,  half  a  dozen  magazines  and  odds  and 
ends  of  sewing  gave  it  all  a  homelike  touch. 

On  three  sides  the  orchard  came  almost  to  the 
house.  There  was  no  attempt  at  a  lawn.  Some 
narrow  garden  beds  were  occupied  largely  by  the 
roots  of  the  vines  that  climbed  in  profusion  over  the 
cottage.  On  the  fourth  side,  at  a  little  distance,  was 
the  barn,  used  for  horses,  hay,  and  harness,  as  well 
as  for  everything  else  that  did  not  properly  belong 

(8) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

in  the  house.  There  were  two  low,  shake-covered 
wings,  in  one  of  which  a  cow  was  kept,  in  the  other 
farm  implements.  Some  pig-pens  were  near,  and 
beyond  a  windmill,  its  raised  tank  silhouetted 
against  the  sky.  The  farmyard,  all  the  space  taken 
from  the  orchards  and  not  actually  covered  with 
buildings,  was  scrupulously  clean,  and  for  the 
greater  part  in  the  shadow  of  the  peppers.  A  few 
chickens  and  turkeys,  and  even  a  pig  or  two,  had 
the  freedom  of  the  place.  A  harrow,  a  cultivator,  a 
sled  and  an  old  farm  wagon  were  in  the  shadows, 
while  hanging  from  the  trees  were  two  trace-chains, 
a  whiffle-tree  and  a  meat  box.  A  suggestion  of  all 
this  Hollington  took  in  at  a  glance  as  he  left  the 
wagon  and  walked  toward  the  house.  The  horses 
had  made  his  coming  known,  so  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  porch  Mrs.  Coulters  was  there  to  wel- 
come him. 

"I  have  your  room  all  ready  for  you,  Doctor," 
she  said,  cordially.  "I'm  Mary  Coulters  and  this  is 
my  daughter  Ruth.  The  others  will  be  here  by  the 
time  dinner  is  ready.     You've  nearly  half  an  hour." 

So  she  took  him  through  a  sitting  room  that  left 
a  suggestion  of  wicker  furniture  and  well-stocked 
book-cases,  up  a  flight  of  stairs  and  into  a  narrow 
hall.  Opening  from  this  was  a  rather  small  bed- 
room, into  which  Clem  Harding  soon  came,  laden 
with  suit  cases. 

After  Hollington  had  changed  his  clothes,  he 
went  downstairs.  Ruth  called  him  into  the  dining 
room  where  she  was  setting  the  table.     A  pretty 

(9) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

little  thing  she  was,  not  past  fifteen,  yet  thoroughly 
self-possessed. 

"I  hope  you're  going  to  like  Rosario,"  she  said. 
"Dr.  Ailing  is  coming  over  early  in  the  morning  to 
take  you  around." 

"I'm  sure  I  will  if  all  Rosarians  are  like  you," 
returned  the  doctor  gallantly.     "May  I  help  you?" 

"Thank  you,  I've  almost  finished.  It's  easier  to 
do  the  rest  myself  than  to  show  you  how.  You 
don't  mind  my  saying  that,  do  you?" 

"Certainly  not;  it's  true." 

"New  York  is  a  long  way  from  here.  Did  you 
have  any  exciting  experiences  on  your  trip?" 

"I  saw  a  great  deal  of  interesting  country  and 
some  uninteresting  desert.  I'm  looking  for  my 
excitement  here." 

"In  Rosario?  Nothing  ever  happens  in  Rosario." 

Mrs.  Coulters  came  in,  both  hands  holding  a 
platter  with  the  roast.  Behind  her  came  a  young 
woman  whom  she  introduced  as  her  daughter 
Frances.  The  contrast  between  the  two  girls  was 
striking,  the  elder  tall,  willowy,  blonde,  every  move 
suggesting  efficiency  and  good,  hard  common  sense. 
Ruth  had  her  mother's  expression,  the  face  of  a 
dreamer,  sweet  and  lovable. 

Then  Sam  Coulters  arrived,  a  man  of  parts,  with 
the  frame  of  an  athlete  and  a  hand  clasp  to  make 
one  wince.  He  wore  a  rather  large  moustache;  his 
skin  was  hardened  by  the  sun,  his  clothes  were  the 
clothes  of  a  working  man.  But  in  any  costume  or  in 
any  company  his  face  would  mark  him  a  man  of 

(10) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

note.  It  had  strength.  Here  was  one  who  could 
think  pretty  straight  to  the  core  of  any  proposition, 
and  who  had  the  courage  to  follow  his  convictions. 

Seated  at  the  table,  one  of  Dr.  Hollington's  first 
questions  was  of  geography.  "I'm  trying  to  get 
something  worked  out  in  my  mind,"  he  said.  "Dr. 
Ailing  always  referred  to  Eden  Valley  as  being  in 
the  mountains,  and  in  San  Diego  you  Rosarians  are 
called  mountaineers.  Yet  we  were  told  at  home  that 
oranges  are  grown  only  in  the  lowlands,  and  our 
train  today  did  not  seem  to  climb  very  much." 

"We  are  mountaineers,"  said  Mary  Coulters,  "if 
shore  birds  are  waterfowl.  Our  coast  valleys  run 
into  the  mountains  like  the  fjords  of  Norway,  and 
probably  for  the  same  reason.  It  must  be  that  at 
some  prehistoric  time  these  valleys  were  deeper  than 
you  see  them  now,  and  were  arms  of  the  ocean.  The 
wash  of  the  rivers  deposited  silt  under  the  water  at 
a  fairly  constant  level,  so  when  the  land  rose  out  of 
the  sea  it  left  us  with  smooth,  fertile  fields  running 
from  one  steep  hillside  to  the  other." 

"I  have  always  believed,"  said  Frances,  "that 
this  country  was  once  all  rough  and  barren,  and  that 
the  wash  from  the  mountains  has  gradually  filled 
the  canons.  As  soon  as  the  water  reached  the  bot- 
tom its  speed  would  be  so  checked  that  it  would 
deposit  whatever  soil  it  carried.  Then,  of  course, 
the  river  would  be  raised  until  it  was  higher  than 
the  land  on  either  side.  After  that  it  would  work 
from  one  canon  side  to  the  other  like  the  thread 
on  a  bobbin." 

(11) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Whatever  the  cause,  these  valleys  sometimes 
work  their  way  up  among  the  hills,"  continued  Mrs. 
Coulters,  "and  Eden  Valley  is  really  an  isolated 
little  finger  tip,  a  tiny  part  of  the  great  system  below, 
yet  practically  separate,  snuggling  right  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountains." 

"The  answer  to  the  doctor's  question,"  said  Sam 
Coulters,  "lies  in  the  fact  that  in  the  days  before 
we  had  trains  the  wagon  road  from  San  Diego  ran 
across  the  hills  into  Rosario.  Once  this  road  started 
to  climb,  everything  beyond  became  a  part  of  the 
mountains,  and  that  idea  clung  to  us  even  after  the 
railroad  found  its  way  here  along  the  valley  floor. 
You  were  almost  home  before  your  train  took  to 
the  hills  at  all." 

"You  will  find  Rosario  very  different  from  New 
York."  Mary  Coulters  had  refilled  the  plates. 
"You'll  have  to  learn  to  substitute  horses  for  the 
subway  and  shooting  for  the  theatre.  At  first  you're 
going  to  be  dissatisfied.  But  it  will  come  to  you, 
just  as  it  has  to  all  of  us,  that  this  is  the  real  life, 
the  natural  one,  the  one  to  which  we  were  born. 
When  it  does  come,  you'll  never  be  contented  away 
from  here;  nothing  else  will  make  up  for  our  skies, 
our  air,  or  our  lovely  evenings,  and  no  home  can 
ever  mean  as  much  to  you  as  your  home  in  these 
California  hills." 

"Mother  is  right,"  said  Frances.  "We've  seen 
it  happen  here  time  after  time.  Wait  until  you  have 
met  the  people  of  this  valley  and  learned  to  know 
them.    You'll  find  them  hard-working,  poor,  victims 

(12) 


A  NEW  DOCTOR  COMES  TO  ROSARIO 

of  countless  vicissitudes,  yet  happy,  thoroughly  glad 
to  be  alive;  and  as  to  their  homes,  their  little  farms 
and  bungalows,  seldom  is  seen  such  determination 
to  stay,  such  love,  such  devotion." 

"They've  proven  it,  too,"  said  the  father.  "It's 
not  been  a  matter  of  falling  into  some  sinecure  and 
becoming  enervated  in  this  balmy  southland. 
They've  worked  and  fought  and  suffered  to  stay 
here.  That  makes  real  people  of  men  and  women. 
I've  lived  in  the  west  all  my  life  and  have  watched 
the  spirit  of  the  pioneers  come  and  go.  This  little 
settlement  of  ours  is  one  of  the  fast  disappearing 
spots  that  still  has  their  spirit;  it's  a  breeding  place 
of  something  the  nation  is  beginning  to  need." 

"Just  the  same,"  said  Ruth,  "I  don't  want  to  live 
here.  I  want  to  see  the  east,  and  Broadway,  and 
Paris,  and  the  world." 

"Of  course  you  do,  honey,  and  you  shall,"  said 
Mary.  "And  when  you  have,  you'll  want  to  come 
straight  back  here  to  settle  down." 

Hours  are  early  in  the  country.  The  evening  was 
all  too  short  for  Hollington  when  the  party  broke 
up  and  he  found  the  way  to  his  room.  He  sat  by 
the  window  for  a  long  time  before  retiring,  looking 
out  on  a  darkened  landscape,  thinking  of  the  people 
he  had  just  left.  They  were  so  different  from  any 
he  had  ever  known  before.  The  outsanding  fact 
was  the  love  and  harmony  in  the  family  circle.  An- 
other thing  was  that  these  people  were  natural,  per- 
fectly sure  of  themselves  and  of  each  other,  and 
they  really  felt  the  friendliness  they  showed.     Only 

(13) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

later  did  it  occur  to  him  that  though  farmers  and 
workers  they  were  educated,  well-read,  and  refined. 
What  manner  of  people  were  they?" 

He  guardedly  put  the  question  to  Clem  Harding 
later. 

"Why,  they  are  just  Americans." 


(14) 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Christmas  Storm 

XX THEN  Hollington  woke  in  the  morning  the 
"  *  fresh  sunshine  flooded  his  room.  He  stepped 
to  the  window  to  breathe  the  aromatic  air  of  the 
garden  and  look  out  upon  a  vista  of  oranges  and 
lemons  set  in  the  soil  of  a  seed  bed.  Downstairs 
he  found  only  Frances  who  was  waiting  to  get  him 
something  to  eat.  The  others  had  finished  long 
before,  and  had  gone  to  their  appointed  work. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said,  "I  hope  you  slept 
well." 

"Entirely  too  well,  I'm  afraid.  I'm  putting  you 
to  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

"Not  at  all.  By  the  way,  Dr.  Ailing  has  been 
here.  He  will  be  back  just  about  the  time  you  finish 
breakfast.     Isn't  it  a  lovely  morning?" 

"I'm  already  beginning  to  catch  your  mother's  en- 
thusiasm." 

"Oh,  and  mine  too,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  that 
made  him  grudge  the  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  in 
the  front  yard. 

Dr.  Ailing  shook  hands  cordially  with  both  of 
the  others. 

"Sit  right  down,  young  man,  and  finish  that  meal. 
I'm  about  to  work  you  so  hard  for  the  next  two  days 
that  you're  going  to  need  food.  I  have  to  get  away 
on  Thursday,   and  do  you  know,   Frances,   it  just 

(15) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

breaks  my  old  heart  to  do  it.  And  as  to  the  wife,  I 
declare  she  wouldn't  go  with  me  if  she  thought  I  was 
able  to  take  care  of  myself." 

When  Frances  left  the  room  for  a  moment  the 
talk  turned  to  some  of  Alling's  cases,  each  doctor 
taking  stock  of  the  other,  and  each  pleased  with 
what  he  found.  Frances  did  not  attempt  to  inter- 
rupt them  when  she  returned.  She  was  surprised  to 
notice  that  Dr.  Ailing  was  asking  the  younger  man's 
advice  on  some  process  which  had  apparently  been 
recently  improved  upon  in  a  Boston  clinic. 

The  two  soon  left  to  start  on  their  round  of  calls. 
The  first  visit  was  to  little  Sadie  McClure,  who  had 
been  unfortunate  enough  to  sprain  her  ankle  by 
sliding  off  a  roof. 

"Well,  well,  what  is  this  I  hear?"  cried  Dr.  Ail- 
ing, as  he  entered  the  sick  room.  He  called  to  the 
mother  for  the  things  he  needed,  and  proceeded  to 
ease  the  suffering  in  that  poor  swollen  joint.  When 
it  was  done,  and  the  little  patient  made  comfortable, 
Dr.  Hollington  was  introduced. 

"He  will  look  out  for  you  from  now  on,  for  I 
have  to  go  to  Chicago  in  a  day  or  two.  He  is  a 
thoroughly  trained  and  skilful  young  man.  I  could 
not  have  found  anyone  better  able  to  take  my  place." 

"Meaning  no  disrespect  to  our  new  doctor,  there 
is  no  one  that  can  ever  take  your  place.  I  don't  see 
how  we  are  going  to  get  along  without  you  at  all." 

"I  know  I'm  going  to  miss  the  people  terribly, 
and  my  old  friend  Mrs.  McClure  as  much  as  any- 
one.    I  never  can  forget  the  many  things  you  have 

(16) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  STORM 

done  for  me.  Hollington,  I  am  giving  you  a  little 
advice.  When  you  need  something  particularly 
choice  for  a  convalescent  you  come  here.  Mrs. 
McClure  is  the  best  cook  I  have  ever  known,  and 
with  proper  savoir  faire  I  am  sure  you  can  persuade 
her  to  make  anything  you  want." 

"Indeed  he  can,  sir,  if  you  ask  it.  Do  I  really 
have  to  say  good-bye  to  you?  Oh,  I  know  you  will 
come  back  some  time;  no  one  could  leave  Rosario 
forever." 

"I  certainly  could  not.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  McClure, 
and  may  God  bless  you." 

There  followed  a  succession  of  calls,  and  then  to 
the  office  to  keep  the  morning  hours.  Everywhere 
there  was  the  same  spirit  of  friendliness  and  regret. 
Hollington  had  believed  at  first  that  the  reasons  lay 
in  the  obvious  superiority  of  the  Coulters,  and  that 
Mrs.  McClure  had  been  included  more  or  less  by 
accident.  But  when  it  was  the  same  with  all  it  gave 
Hollington  food  for  thought.  He  finally  com- 
mented to  Ailing  on  the  matter,  asking  him  how  he 
could  act  in  so  friendly  a  spirit  to  so  many  people. 

"I  am  not  acting,  my  boy.  I  don't  pretend  to 
care  more  for  these  people  than  I  actually  feel.  If 
you're  going  to  do  justice  to  yourself  and  to  Rosario, 
you  must  break  through  your  Harvard  reserve  and 
be  one  of  them.  It  is  going  to  take  time,  and  dur- 
ing that  time  you  may  be  misunderstood.  But  you 
must  try,  try  consciously;  whenever  you  do  like 
anyone,  show  it,  my  boy,  show  it.     They  want  you 

(17) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

to  like  them,  and  they'll  size  you  up  in  time  all  right 
enough." 

A  frightened  Mexican  interrupted  them.  A  rattle 
snake  had  bitten  him  in  the  arm  not  an  hour  before. 
His  companions  had  tied  a  cord  above  the  wound, 
then  rushed  him  to  the  office. 

"Here  is  something  I'm  glad  to  have  you  see, 
Hollington.  It's  one  of  the  cases  where  western 
experience  is  better  than  eastern.  Now,  Manuel, 
don't  be  excited;  you're  in  no  danger  and  you'll  not 
be  hurt  much.  First  I  must  put  on  the  proper  lig- 
ature." He  took  a  roll  of  gauze  about  an  inch  wide, 
ran  it  lightly  about  the  arm.  Then  he  wound  it 
around  and  around,  steadily  increasing  the  pressure, 
until  by  the  time  the  spool  was  exhausted  he  was 
pulling  almost  as  hard  as  he  could.  The  cord  was 
then  removed,  and  the  wound  itself  treated. 

"Manuel,  I  want  you  to  take  this  off  slowly;  take 
it  off  once  around  every  ten  minutes.  Here  is  some 
medicine.  Swallow  it  and  go  to  bed.  I  will  be 
around  to  see  you  this  afternoon. 

"The  idea  is  this,  Hollington.  The  poison  in  the 
snake  fang  is  an  acid,  and  a  very  powerful  heart 
depressent.  Neutralize  that  acid  as  well  as  you  can 
with  any  alkali,  and  let  the  heart  absorb  it  over  a 
period  of  several  hours.  If  the  heart  takes  it  too 
fast  there  will  be  excruciating  pain,  and  even  death, 
in  rare  cases.  But  if  you  take  time  enough,  the  heart 
can  handle  it  very  nicely." 

In  the  afternoon  when  they  called  at  Manuel's 
home  they  found  his  condition  just  what  Ailing  had 

(18) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  STORM 

predicted.  Hollington  was  no  longer  surprised  to 
observe  that  the  dirty,  dismal  little  shack  made  no 
more  difference  to  Ailing  than  did  the  primitive 
half-animal  nature  of  the  Mexican.  Manuel  was  a 
patient,  but  Manuel  and  the  entire  Muchado  family 
were  friends.  Their  grief  at  Alling's  plans  for 
leaving  was  the  least  restrained  of  any;  but  if  vocif- 
erous it  was  sincere. 

When  later  the  doctors  looked  in  on  the  new  baby 
of  the  Japanese  truck  gardener,  Hollington  would 
have  been  surprised  had  there  not  been  manifesta- 
tions of  friendship  on  both  sides.  The  lesson  was 
learned;  there  remained  now  only  to  put  it  into  prac- 
tice. 

By  evening  Hollington  had  a  fair  knowledge  of 
Alling's  cases,  and  had  met  many  people.  He  had 
arranged  to  take  over  Dr.  Alling's  offices,  and  had 
found  a  place  to  board. 

Thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  Hollington  did 
well  from  the  first.  That  he  was  a  good  physician 
and  surgeon  goes  without  saying.  Dr.  Ailing  would 
have  trusted  his  business  in  Rosario  to  no  other. 
What  the  latter  called  Hollington's  Harvard  re- 
serve was  enough  in  evidence  to  keep  the  new  doctor 
from  taking  too  quickly  the  place  of  the  old  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  But  in  due  time  this  obstruc- 
tion passed,  and  the  good  people  of  the  valley  grew 
to  understand.  They  rather  sympathized  with  what 
to  them  was  shyness  and  diffidence. 

Hollington  was  not  of  an  impressionable  nature. 
All  the  more  remarkable  was  the  influence  of  two 

(19) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

days'  intimate  association  with  Dr.  Ailing.  In  that 
time  was  bred  and  developed  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
disciple.  Then  and  there  Hollington  determined  to 
dedicate  his  own  life  to  following  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  predecessor  whom  he  so  greatly  admired. 
The  doctor  in  Rosario  should  be  more  than  a  healer, 
just  as  a  minister  should  be  more  than  a  teacher. 
In  order  to  fulfill  what  he  had  grown  to  regard  as 
his  mission  in  life,  he  must  make  friends  of  the 
people,  of  all  the  people,  as  he  had  seen  done.  Then 
he  must  be  prepared  at  all  times  to  help  them  with 
advice,  good  advice  and  sympathetic. 

As  time  passed  he  found  a  steady  growth  in  his 
power  to  carry  out  this  conception.  He  became 
really  fond  of  his  neighbors,  though  intimate  with 
none  except  the  Coulters.  By  the  time  the  winter 
came  he  knew  he  was  succeeding,  for  often  people 
came  to  him  as  previously  they  had  come  to  Ailing. 
But  the  greatest  tribute  of  all  was  when  Sam  Coul- 
ters himself  began  to  take  the  young  man  into  his 
confidence,  and  to  look  to  him  for  occasional  help. 

Then  came  a  catastrophe. 

Christmas  eve  it  began  to  rain.  All  night  the 
life-giving  water  fell  with  a  steady  patter.  Rosario 
was  happy;  as  the  storm  kept  on  into  Christmas  the 
delighted  inhabitants  puttered  around  in  the  mud, 
exchanging  gifts  and  greetings,  a  smile  on  every 
face.  They  saw  their  citrus  crop  sparkling  with  the 
golden  promise  of  dreams  come  true.  More  than 
one  happy  parent  pored  over  the  catalogue  of  a 

(20) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  STORM 

boarding-school,  or  added  a  long  coveted  luxury  to 
the  family  budget. 

In  the  afternoon  the  downpour  became  fitful;  by 
midnight  an  occasional  star  could  be  seen,  and  be- 
fore dawn  the  cold  north  wind  had  cleared  the  sky 
of  every  vestige  of  cloud.  The  storm  was  past,  but 
it  had  been  magnificent;  more  than  two  inches  of 
water  had  fallen. 

Over  the  ground  where  the  storm  had  been  the 
atmosphere  was  so  light  as  to  form  a  partial  vac- 
uum. The  heavier  air  from  the  outside  rushed  in 
to  fill  it,  and  from  the  friction  came  heat,  which  was 
absorbed  from  the  incoming  air.  So  nature  main- 
tains her  balances. 

The  beneficent  wind  from  the  ocean  was  thrust 
aside  by  its  rival  from  the  north  which  swept  down 
from  the  snowy  Sierra  in  cold  dry  blasts  withering 
to  the  very  heart  of  nature. 

Ceaseless  it  came  on  and  on.  The  sun  shone 
down  from  a  clear  sky,  and  the  earth  gave  up  its 
moisture.  By  sunset  the  soil  was  drying  fast,  and 
the  persistent  assaults  on  the  temperature  began  to 
tell.  Down  below  forty  went  the  thermometer,  be- 
low thirty-five.  At  thirty-two  the  last  protection  of 
nature  was  reached,  the  latent  heat  of  freezing.  For 
one  hour,  for  two,  until  a  telltale  ice-scum  showed 
the  final  triumph  of  the  invader. 

Then  it  was  that  Sam  Coulters,  his  hand  on  his 
watch  and  his  eye  on  the  recording  dial,  called  in 
man,  man  with  his  puny  resources.  By  midnight  a 
hundred   thousand   smudge-pots,    filled   and  placed 

(21) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

two  months  before,  were  vomiting  up  their  black 
smoke  and  overspreading  the  valley. 

Every  man,  woman,  and  child  was  out  with  a 
torch.  Dr.  Hollington  was  drawn  to  the  Coulters' 
with  the  others.  It  was  all  new  to  him;  no  one  had 
time  to  tell  him  what  it  meant.  But  he  soon  found 
himself  working  down  his  row,  a  swarthy  Mexican 
on  one  side,  Frances  herself  on  the  other.  She  gave 
an  occasional  smile  of  encouragement.  And  he 
surprised  himself  no  less  than  her  by  crossing  to  her 
and  telling  her  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  him  to  be 
really  cooperating  with  her. 

"Look  out;  you  will  lose  some  of  that  dignity!" 
and  they  both  laughed. 

At  last  the  work  was  done,  and  a  tired  group  of 
farm-hands  and  neighbors  collected  in  the  Coulters' 
kitchen.  Hot  coffee  and  thick  slices  of  bread  were 
passed  around.  In  the  genial  atmosphere  that  fol- 
lows hard  work  and  success  Mrs.  Warner  went  to 
Dr.  Hollington. 

"I  want  to  shake  hands  with  you,  young  man. 
I  have  heard  more  than  one  nice  thing  said  of  you 
tonight." 

"Why,  I  did  only  what  everyone  was  doing." 

"I  know.  That  is  what  we  all  liked.  We  feel 
now  that  you  are  one  of  us." 

"Welcome  to  our  city,"  giggled  Ruth.  "Just  the 
same,  she's  right." 

"Now  people,  we  have  a  hard  day  ahead  of  us, 
so  we  must  all  get  what  rest  we  can.  There  is  not 
enough  of  the  night  remaining  to  hurt  us."     Sam 

(22) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  STORM 

Coulters  was  saving  his  resources,  the  strength  of  his 
family  and  friends. 

"Pretty  soon  the  sun  will  come  up,"  said  Clem 
Harding,  "and  he'll  smile  at  us,  and  say,  'Now  you 
folks,  just  let  me  take  care  of  this,  it's  easy!" 

With  varying  hours  of  sleep  the  people  of  the 
valley  straggled  to  work  the  next  morning.  The 
smudge-pots  had  to  be  filled.  Many  used  briquettes, 
a  composition  of  sawdust  and  petroleum.  More 
had  small  tanks  to  hold  crude  oil.  In  either  case  a 
wagon  with  fuel  travelled  endlessly  from  one  row 
to  another,  while  two  or  three  or  four  people 
trudged  beside  it,  preparing  pot  after  pot  for  the 
coming  of  the  night. 

The  irrigation  ditches  were  opened  and  the 
orchards  flooded.  Brush  was  hauled,  prunings  were 
gathered,  all  possible  preparations  were  made.  But 
mostly  it  was  pots,  pots,  till  the  mind  itself  was 
smudged  by  the  thought  of  them. 

Always  the  cold  north  wind,  unchanging  and  re- 
morseless. If  colder  than  the  day  before,  it  was 
still  the  same  wind,  for  the  forces  in  opposition  were 
weakening.  Many  a  time  the  lowering  temperatures 
of  the  two  days  were  checked,  but  never  with  en- 
couragement. At  three  o'clock  the  thermometer 
began  to  fall  in  earnest,  and  at  sunset  had  almost 
touched  the  freezing  point. 

It  was  a  repetition  of  the  previous  night,  but  the 
smudge-pots  were  lighted  hours  earlier.  Once  more 
the  tired  orchardists  had  to  tramp  through  the  dark, 
wet  groves,   and  once  more  the  answering  smoke 

(23) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

filled  the  skies.  It  checked  the  fall  of  the  thermom- 
eter, but  bursting  water  pipes  and  ice-coated  pools 
showed  how  triumphant  still  was  the  relentless 
enemy  from  the  north. 

So  Sam  ordered  the  firing  of  the  barricade. 
Against  such  a  contingency  had  the  prunings  of  two 
seasons  been  piled  along  the  north  and  northwest 
corners  of  the  valley.  Every  few  hundred  yards 
were  these  monuments  of  foresight,  many  of  them 
larger  than  a  cottage.  When  they  burst  into  flame 
the  orchards  were  guarded  by  a  wall  of  fire  that 
Boreas  could  not  hope  to  overcome.  But  he  was 
never  a  bit  discouraged.  "I  will  blow  those  flames 
and  make  them  all  the  hotter.  And  when  that  brush 
is  ashes  I  will  push  the  warm  air  out  of  that  lovely 
valley,  and  then — ha !  ha  1" 

"We  might  as  well  quit  now,"  said  Sam  Coulters, 
"all  except  the  men  who  are  tending  the  fires. 
They'll  protect  us  until  one  o'clock.  If  the  wind 
shifts  by  that  time  we're  safe;  if  it  blows  all  night 
we're  going  to  be  badly  hurt.  In  either  event  we've 
done  all  that  could  have  been  done.  I'm  going  to 
get  some  rest,  and  I  advise  you  all  to  do  the  same. 
Perhaps  in  daylight  things  will  not  seem  so  hope- 
less." 

But  victory  lay  with  the  Hun.  Not  until  the  sun 
had  struggled  for  hours  did  the  west  wind  come  into 
its  own.  And  then  the  beautiful  valley  lay  prostrate 
under  a  blow  from  which  it  never  fully  recovered. 
Hardy  native  plants,  the  wild  tobacco  and  the  su- 
mach, were  shrivelled  as  though  by  a  wave  of  fire. 

(24) 


THE  CHRISTMAS  STORM 

Gardens  and  ornamental  trees  suffered  still  more. 
Even  the  olive,  seemingly  unscathed,  had  sloughed 
its  crop  to  save  itself.  And  the  citrus,  the  most  del- 
icate of  them  all! 

The  trees  were  dying  from  the  tips  of  the 
branches  toward  the  heart.  Probably  there  were 
few  of  them  but  could  be  saved,  but  all  that  could 
be  kept  alive  would  be  a  short,  bare  stump.  For  the 
tender  shoots  had  gone  first,  and  the  march  of  death 
could  be  followed  to  the  older  twigs,  to  the  main 
branches  themselves,  to  the  very  trunks. 

And  the  fruit,  the  bread  and  butter,  the  neces- 
sities and  happiness  of  the  people.  There  are  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  of  tiny  vials  in  an  orange. 
When  the  juice  within  them  freezes  it  bursts  the 
membranes,  leaving  within  the  skin  a  pulpy  mass 
that  at  once  begins  to  decay.  As  beautiful  as  ever 
to  look  upon,  yet  utterly  worthless. 


(25) 


J 


CHAPTER  III 

J.  P.  Butler  &  Co. 

P.  Butler  &  Co.,  Real  Estate,  Loans,  and  In- 
surance." 

The  sign  was  generously  spread  over  a  large 
plate  glass  window.  Around  the  window  was  a 
building  with  a  door,  and  a  fire  wall  in  front  intimat- 
ing a  two-story  structure.  The  office  was  in  full 
view  of  the  street;  contents,  one  swivel  and  two 
straight  chairs,  a  roll-top  desk,  a  cuspidor,  and  a 
waste  basket,  maps  and  advertising  pictures  on  the 
wall,  and  dust  everywhere;  the  effect  within  was 
strain,  but  the  sign  without  was  gorgeous. 

Beside  the  open  desk  sat  J.  P.  Butler  &  Co.,  the 
somewhat  slovenly  man  being  Butler,  and  the  com- 
pany the  dusty  surroundings.  Before  the  man  lay 
a  letter  bearing  the  printed  heading  of  "The  Nippon 
Merchandise  Co."  He  was  puzzling  over  its  con- 
tents, his  eyes  half-closed,  and  his  hand  gently  car- 
essing his  chin. 

The  letter  was  a  general  request  for  information 
as  to  the  chance  of  buying  a  citrus  grove  at  a  low 
price.  Business,  never  very  large  at  this  office,  was 
particularly  dull  just  now;  the  broker  wanted  money, 
and  the  outlook  at  Rosario  was  not  flattering. 

His  fingers  idly  drummed  his  lot  book,  but  he  did 
not  open  it.  It  contained  a  list  of  every  piece  of 
property   in   Eden   Valley,   with   the   name   of   the 

(26) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

owner,  and  the  amount  of  and  holder  of  every  in- 
cumbrance. It  seemed  there  usually  was  one.  But- 
ler knew  the  contents  of  this  book  pretty  thoroughly; 
his  living  had  been  made  for  many  years  by  placing 
these  mortgages. 

The  result  of  his  meditations  was  a  trip  to  the 
coast.  He  gave  some  attention  to  his  personal  ap- 
pearance before  he  presented  himself  at  the  South- 
ern California  Bank.  As  an  out  of  town  correspon- 
dent who  had  sent  quite  a  bit  of  valuable  business 
there,  he  was  courteously  received  by  the  president. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  that  affable 
man  of  affairs,  "you  certainly  are  looking  well." 

"I'm  feeling  first  rate,  but  I'm  just  a  little  wor- 
ried, so  I  thought  I  would  drop  in  here." 

"You  Rosarians  were  hard  hit.  It's  bad  enough 
along  the  coast,  but  nothing  by  comparison." 

"I  know  it,  Mr.  Barlow.  That  is  why  I  have 
come  to  see  you.  You  have  made  so  many  of  your 
Eden  Valley  loans  through  me  that  I  feel  a  great 
deal  of  responsibility." 

"You  mean  the  situation  is  as  serious  as  that?" 

"I  can't  see  where  those  men  are  coming  out. 
How  can  they  pay?  How  can  they  even  meet  their 
interest  or  taxes?  It  will  be  a  full  year  before  they 
get  any  real  crops.  How  will  they  keep  on?  They 
nearly  all  owe  money  on  the  crops  that  were  lost; 
where  is  it  to  be  had?" 

"Yes,  I  know,  they've  lost  their  gross  receipts 
for  a  year." 

"And  no  business  in  the  world  can  stand  that." 
(27) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"No  business  could,  but  some  men  can.  I've 
given  this  matter  a  good  deal  of  thought,  and  I  con- 
fess that  it's  bothering  me  quite  a  little.  I  know  you 
didn't  come  here  just  to  frighten  me.  You  have 
some  idea  in  mind;  what  is  it?" 

"Well,  as  I  said,  I  feel  partly  to  blame,  and  I 
want  to  keep  my  record  clear.  I  think  the  thing  for 
you  to  do  is  to  let  me  sell  some  of  the  mortgages 
for  you." 

"No  one  would  buy  without  the  bank's  guarantee, 
and  then  we  would  be  in  just  so  much  the  worse 
shape  for  having  lost  control." 

"I  think  perhaps  I  could  sell  some  for  you  with- 
out that." 

"Look  here,  Butler,  that's  not  the  way  we  do 
business.  If  you  think  I'm  going  to  sell  that  paper 
to  men  who  will  foreclose — ." 

"Don't  be  angry,  please.  We  can't  govern  what 
the  buyer  does,  Mr.  Barlow.  I  was  thinking  of 
my  responsibility." 

"Of  your  commissions !  Of  your  chance  to  make 
a  few  dollars  out  of  your  neighbors'  troubles.  If 
you  can  bring  me  any  kind  of  a  proposition  by  which 
I  can  help  those  poor  people  without  jeopardizing 
my  stockholders'  interests,  come  back  here.  That  is 
the  only  kind  of  business  I  want  with  Eden  Valley 
just  now.    Good  morning!" 

When  the  firm  of  J.  P.  Butler  &  Co.  reached  the 
sidewalk  it  was  with  a  somewhat  diminished  air  of 
confidence.  The  Southern  California  Bank  appeared 
with  lamentable  frequency  in  the  lot  book.     And  so 

(28) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

many  of  the  choicest  holdings  were  marked  with  its 
name.  Of  the  other  loans,  one  after  another  was 
held  out  of  town,  or  for  some  other  reason  was 
unavailable.  The  Warner  place  seemed  to  offer 
the  best,  if  not  the  only  opportunity.  The  loan  on 
it  was  small  and  it  had  but  a  short  time  to  run.  The 
farm  was  marketable.  Mrs.  Warner  had  recently 
been  through  a  prolonged  illness,  which  had  ex- 
hausted every  family  resource  up  to  the  frozen  crop. 

So  it  came  about  that  old  Arthur  Speirs,  who  held 
the  mortgage,  listened  to  much  the  same  tale  as  was 
told  to  the  bank  president,  listened  with  fear  and 
trembling,  for  it  was  adorned  with  many  embellish- 
ments that  the  astute  agent  had  not  dared  to  use  in 
his  former  interview.  Arthur  Speirs  had  no  high 
philanthropic  motives ;  the  Warners  were  imper- 
sonal to  him.  His  money  was  in  danger,  a  part  of 
his  income  might  be  lost,  he  was  rattled  and  badly 
frightened,  facts  which,  skilfully  played  upon,  re- 
sulted in  a  very  satisfactory  option  made  out  to  the 
long  established  and  highly  respectable  firm  of  J.  P. 
Butler  &  Co. 

Hanba  was  the  leading  spirit  of  the  Nippon  Mer- 
chandise Co.  He  was  the  better  dressed,  the  better 
educated,  and  even  spoke  the  better  English  of  the 
two,  when  Butler  was  in  his  store. 

"Eden  Valley?    No." 

"But  the  trees  will  come  back."  Butler  was  sit- 
ting close  to  his  customer,  and  speaking  in  a  low, 
confidential  tone,  although  the  two  were  alone  in  a 
large  office.    His  salesmanship  was  of  the  "can't  you 

(29) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

see  it?"  type,  his  explanations  were  those  of  a  school 
teacher,  both  as  to  the  pains  taken  and  as  to  the 
mental  attitude  assumed.  Frequently  he  would  em- 
phasize a  point  by  gently  tapping  his  hearer  on  the 
knee.  "The  roots  and  the  trunks  are  still  alive.  In 
one  year  you  will  be  picking  fruit.  And  think  of  the 
price.  Two  thousand  dollars  will  buy  that  mort- 
gage, and  with  five  hundred  to  me  for  my  option; 
only  a  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  with  houses  and 
machinery  and  water  rights  thrown  in.  It  is  less 
than  two  dollars  apiece  for  the  trees,  with  every- 
thing else  for  nothing." 

"But  I  do  not  understand  this  way  of  buying.  If 
I  pay  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  why  do 
I  not  own  the  place?" 

"Now  listen;  that  mortgage  has  three  months  to 
run.  If  he  pays  it,  you  get  your  money  back  and 
you  get  interest.  If  he  does  not,  you  pay  me  five 
hundred  dollars  and  the  place  is  yours.  In  a  year  it 
will  be  worth  fifteen  thousand." 

"Is  this  all  right?  Is  this  the  way  to  do  business 
in  this  country?" 

"Why,  certainly,  it's  all  right.  Do  you  think  the 
Southern  California  Bank  would  do  this  if  it  were 
not  all  right?  Look  in  this  book  and  see  the  mort- 
gages they  own.  You  know  the  Warner  property 
and  you  know  it's  exactly  what  you  want.  And  you 
know  that  it's  worth  five,  six,  eight  hundred  dollars 
an  acre.  This  is  a  gamble;  he  may  pay,  but  even 
then  you  can't  lose.  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do ;  let  us 
go  to  your  lawyer." 

(30) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

"We  will  do  that.  I  will  not  do  anything  that  is 
not  perfectly  honorable.  If  Mr.  McGowan  tells  me 
the  same  things  that  you  have,  I  will  buy  your  mort- 
gage. But  I  will  not  pay  you  five  hundred  dollars ; 
I  will  pay  one  hundred  and  fifty." 

After  much  haggling  two  hundred  and  sixty-five 
dollars  was  agreed  upon.  Then  came  the  visit  to 
the  attorney.  McGowan  was  a  lawyer  with  all  that 
the  word  implies.  The  papers  and  the  question 
were  submitted  to  him.  The  mortgage,  the  certifi- 
cate, and  the  option  were  all  regular;  it  took  him 
but  a  few  moments  to  pass  upon  them.  And  the 
transaction  itself?  Why,  certainly.  Years  of  delv- 
ing into  intricate  legal  problems  had  robbed  him  of 
any  point  of  view  other  than  what  was  according 
to  law  must  be  right.  To  him,  Hanba,  Butler,  and 
Warner  alike  were  only  markers  in  the  game. 

It  was  decided  that  the  best  way  to  handle  the 
situation  was  for  McGowan  to  take  over  the  mort- 
gage as  trustee  and  hold  it  until  such  time  as  it 
should  be  either  satisfied  or  foreclosed.  So  Speirs 
was  repaid  his  loan,  less  a  hundred  dollar  commis- 
sion, McGowan  was  satisfied  because  every  paper 
was  perfectly  drawn;  Butler,  because  of  the  money 
he  already  had,  and  the  larger  amount  which  he 
was  determined  to  get;  Hanba,  because  the  true 
Oriental  is  a  born  gambler,  and  Warner,  well,  there 
has  to  be  a  loser  in  every  game ;  anyway  no  one  took 
the  trouble  to  tell  him. 

When  Butler  had  returned,  and  was  once  more 
established  in  his  office  in  Rosario,  he  found  him- 

(31) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

self  the  object  of  quite  general  interest.     Coulters 
was  one  of  his  first  callers. 

"We've  been  waiting  for  your  return  with  a  good 
deal  of  interest,"  said  Coulters  to  the  broker.  "I 
suppose  you  saw  Barlow?" 

"Oh  yes.  That's  why  I  went  down.  So  many 
loans  have  been  placed  with  him  through  me,  that 
I  thought  I  owed  it  to  the  valley  to  put  matters  be- 
fore him  in  its  best  light.  I  wanted  to  get  at  him 
before  those  coast  knockers  could  influence  him. 
They  are  trying  to  borrow  a  great  deal  of  money  to 
develop  Silver  Cliffs,  and  are  just  small  enough  to 
figure  that  the  less  we  get  the  more  they  will  obtain." 

"How  does  Barlow  stand?" 

"He  said  to  me,  word  for  word,  'If  you  can  bring 
me  any  kind  of  a  proposition  by  which  I  can  help 
those  poor  people  without  jeopardizing  my  stock- 
holders, come  back  with  it.'  Mr.  Barlow  is  a  man 
whom  I  am  proud  to  number  among  my  friends, 
and  I  certainly  am  glad  I  went  to  him." 

"You  feel  sure  that  he  will  at  least  give  us  plenty 
of  time?" 

"Beyond  any  question." 

"And  do  you  think  he'll  help  us  any  more  than 
that?" 

"He  might.  I  tell  you  what  to  do.  Figure  out 
the  amount  that  is  going  to  be  needed,  and  work  it 
up  into  some  businesslike  proposition,  then  we  will 
consult  him.  I  did  not  like  to  go  any  further  than 
I  did  at  first,  nor  until  I  knew  just  what  I  wanted 
him  to  do." 

(32) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

All  his  visitors  who  were  indebted  to  the  Southern 
California  Bank  were  told  the  same  thing.  It  was 
the  subject  of  a  carefully  written  interview  in  the 
Rosario  Record,  a  marked  copy  of  which  was 
promptly  mailed  to  Mr.  Barlow.  And  as  no  denial 
was  ever  forthcoming  Butler's  story  was  not  ques- 
tioned. 

Among  his  callers  on  this  first  day  was  Warner. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  saw  Mr.  Speirs,"  said  Butler.  "He 
was  very  uneasy  at  first,  but  when  I  left  him  I  knew 
that  he  had  no  intention  of  foreclosing." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that.  You  see  I  have 
given  a  trust  deed,  not  a  mortgage.  And  so  I  have 
no  chance  to  redeem.  I  must  either  get  that  money 
somewhere  else,  if  I  can,  or  get  an  extension  from 
Speirs." 

"I  know  he  will  not  foreclose.  But  as  to  asking 
him  for  a  long  extension,  I  don't  know." 

"Perhaps  I'd  best  go  to  San  Diego  and  see  him. 
Then  when  I  find  out  just  what  he'll  do  I  can  have 
the  papers  drawn,  and  close  the  whole  matter  at 
once." 

"That  is  the  wrong  way  to  go  about  it,  entirely 
wrong.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  him,  and  everything 
is  all  right.  But  if  you  go  to  him  and  show  him  that 
you  are  uneasy  he  may  grow  uneasy  too.  A  very 
peculiar  man.  So  easy  to  get  an  idea  into  his  head, 
but  so  nearly  impossible  to  get  one  out  of  it." 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

"You  just  leave  it  all  to  me.  I  will  fix  it  for  you. 
How  much  more  time  do  you  want?" 

(33) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  think  I  can  clear  it  all  right  in  two  years.  I 
know  I  can  in  three." 

"That  can  be  arranged  for  you  easily  enough. 
Don't  give  the  matter  another  thought.  The  next 
time  I  go  to  town  I'll  attend  to  it." 

"When  are  you  going?" 

"Before  long.     I  don't  know  exactly." 

Supper  that  night  at  the  Warners'  was  a  very 
cheerful  meal.  A  little  reaction  came  from  the  call 
on  Butler.  One  thing,  at  least,  could  have  been 
worse.  The  first  smile  was  contagious,  for  the  whole 
family  was  eager  to  rebound  from  its  depression. 
The  overshadowing  topic  of  conversation  was  the 
education  of  the  children.  The  parents  knew  that 
for  themselves  the  next  few  years  meant  harder 
work  and  greater  denials  than  had  ever  been  their 
lot  before.  They  knew  it  and  accepted  it,  so  there 
was  nothing  further  to  be  said. 

Richard  was  the  oldest  son.  He  was  in  his  junior 
year  at  Hopkins.  To  his  family,  at  least,  his  record 
was  one  of  brilliant  scholarship.  He  not  only  had 
a  big  future  before  him  because  of  his  marked  abil- 
ity as  an  engineer,  but  he  had  already  reached  a 
point  where,  between  prizes  won  and  outside  work, 
he  had  become  self-supporting.  It  would  be  little 
less  than  cruel  to  call  him  home  at  this  time. 

Could  the  farm  be  kept  going  by  the  father  and 
the  younger  son,  the  latter  a  youth  of  seventeen  who 
had  inherited  his  mother's  delicate  constitution? 
Deland  Warner,  worshipping  his  elder  brother, 
would  listen  to  no  other  plan.     The  father  was  se- 

(34) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

rious,  for  he  could  estimate  the  work  that  had  to 
be  done,  and  knew  how  hopeless  it  was  to  even  think 
of  engaging  hired  help.  And  there  was  Jeanette, 
as  pretty  and  as  sweet  a  bit  of  girlhood  as  any  valley 
could  boast.  Did  it  all  mean  for  her  a  department 
store  counter?  Would  high  school  have  to  be  given 
up,  and  normal  become  an  abandoned  dream? 

Yes,  unquestionably.  She  smiled  through  her 
tears,  protesting  that  she  was  glad  to  do  what  she 
could  for  them.  They  petted  her,  and  praised  her, 
promising  that  it  would  not  be  for  long,  that  their 
very  first  crop  would  put  her  back  on  the  road  to  her 
ambition.  But  they  were  serious,  too,  they  knew 
what  a  lonely  home  theirs  would  be,  for  they  loved 
the  daughter  of  their  house  no  less  than  she  loved 
them. 

Warner  and  Deland  turned  to  a  discussion  of  the 
farm  work,  how  it  could  be  handled  and  how  di- 
vided. They  agreed  that  the  first  thing  they  must  do 
was  to  cut  from  the  fruit  trees  all  the  dead  wood, 
the  wood  that  had  been  killed  by  the  cold.  There 
was  imperative  need  to  have  this  done  before  the 
warm  weather  started  the  spring  flow  of  sap.  They 
would  probably  be  a  little  late  in  completing  that 
task,  and  would  be  behind  with  all  the  farm  work 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  But  by  working  a  little 
harder  than  they  had  ever  done,  and  having  no  crop 
to  be  lost  by  their  tardiness,  they  could  probably 
leave  Richard  in  the  east. 

Mrs.  Warner  and  Jeanette  might  have  plunged 
into  talk  about  the  changed  prospects  of  the  latter 

(36) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

and  the  coming  separation,  but  they  tacitly  reserved 
the  subject  for  feminine  privacy,  contenting  them- 
selves with  listening  to  the  plans  of  their  men,  and 
occasionally  offering  a  suggestion. 

Later  in  the  evening  the  Kraemers  came  in  from 
across  the  road.  They  had  been  friends  and  neigh- 
bors in  the  far  back  Iowa  days.  Their  only  child, 
a  babyhood  playmate  of  Jeanette,  was  but  a  memory 
now,  the  memory  of  golden  curls  and  roguish  smiles 
and  happy  laughter.  On  the  Warner  children  they 
lavished  the  affection  that  craved  an  outlet;  they 
mothered  them  until  these  seven  people  were  almost 
as  one  family. 

As  was  the  custom,  the  two  households  walked 
together  to  the  store  and  post  office,  a  half  mile 
away.  They  met  many  of  their  neighbors  this  eve- 
ning, on  the  same  errand  bound.  And  the  exchange 
of  greetings  and  of  queries  as  to  welfare  held  more 
than  the  usual  significance.  It  was  characteristic  of 
these  people  that  they  had  discounted  their  losses, 
and  with  few  exceptions  were  making  no  complaints. 
Instead,  they  were  asking  or  telling  about  what  had 
been  saved,  and  taking  pleasure  in  any  little  thing 
that  had  escaped.  And  they  were  full  of  the  future 
as  it  was  to  be,  not  as  it  might  have  been. 

Mrs.  Warner  was  not  at  all  reticent  in  telling  the 
family  plans,  in  fact  she  seemed  rather  glad  to  have 
generally  known  what  had  been  decided  upon  that 
evening.  The  way  her  friends  received  the  news 
showed  the  universal  esteem  in  which  the  Warners 
were  held.     They  were  in  no  sense  leaders  as  the 

(36) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

Coulters  were.  They  were  of  those  whom  everyone 
likes,  which  is  sometimes  different  from  being  of 
those  whom  everyone  follows. 

Warner's  days,  and  those  of  his  son  Deland,  were 
strenuous  ones.  Both  men  were  in  the  orchards  at 
daylight,  and  both  came  home  at  dark,  utterly 
fatigued.  Little  by  little  they  decreased  the  area 
of  apparently  dead  trees.  The  brush  pile  grew  to 
amazing  proportions,  and  there  was  a  very  gratify- 
ing number  of  healthy  looking  stumps,  properly 
trimmed  and  protected  with  wax. 

The  details  of  arranging  for  the  extension  of  the 
loan  were  being  neglected,  and  Warner  knew  it. 
But  he  was  too  tired  evenings  to  look  up  Butler,  and 
too  concentrated  on  his  work  to  be  willing  to  leave  it 
in  the  daytime.  Several  weeks  elapsed  before  he 
forced  himself  to  go  to  the  broker.  He  was  assured 
that  Speirs  had  recently  been  in  correspondence  with 
Butler,  that  matters  stood  exactly  where  they  did 
at  the  time  of  the  first  interview,  and  that  the  for- 
malities would  be  gone  through  with  in  due  season. 

The  time  had  come,  however,  to  take  Jeanette  to 
town,  and  to  establish  her  there,  both  in  the  store 
where  she  would  work,  and  with  the  people  with 
whom  she  would  board.  Her  father  was  to  take  her 
down,  so  he  told  Butler  that  he  himself  would  see 
Speirs. 

Butler  thought  it  over.  With  his  eye  on  the  cal- 
endar, his  thumb  pressing  his  chin  on  one  side  while 
his  forefinger  stroked  the  other,  he  was  trying  to 

(37) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

fit  one  more  move  into  the  puzzle  he  was  determined 
to  solve. 

One  day  three  or  four  months  later,  while  the 
broker  was  writing  in  his  office,  the  door  was 
opened,  and  Sam  Coulters  walked  in. 

"Hello,  Sam.  I  suppose,  since  you're  all  dressed 
up,  that  you're  going  to  town?" 

"I've  just  returned."  His  face  was  cold  as  a 
statue.  "Didn't  you  know  that  Barlow  would  re- 
peat what  you  said  to  him?" 

"He  told,  you  that  I  tried  to  persuade  him  to  sell 
his  mortgages?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  what  he  really  believes.  But  I  was  only 
trying  to  find  out  what  he  would  do.  I  wanted  to 
make  sure,  and  I  did." 

"There's  another  mistake  you  made.  I  suppose 
you  thought  Hanba  would  keep  still?" 

Butler's  face  turned  to  a  pasty  white. 

"You've  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  dollars  of 
blood  money.  Give  me  a  check  for  that  amount, 
and  Richard  Warner  can  get  his  degree.  Then  pack 
and  go  where  no  one  of  us  will  ever  see  you  again." 

"You  can't  talk  to  me  like  that  and  get  away  with 
it.     Business — " 

"I'm  not  going  to  talk  to  you  much  more.  I  don't 
enjoy  it.  And  I'm  not  going  to  listen  to  you  at  all. 
But  unless  you  do  exactly  what  I've  told  you  to  do, 
I'm  going  to  Harry  Warner  and  tell  him  some 
things  that  will  interest  him. 

"All  about  your  little  chat  with  Barlow,  for  in- 
(38) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

stance,  and  with  Speirs,  and  with  Hanba,  and  with 
McGowan.  How  you  lied  about  Speirs'  intentions, 
and  how  you  later  intimidated  the  poor  old  man  into 
being  your  confederate.  How  Speirs  was  so  upset 
over  the  whole  transaction  that  he  moved  heaven 
and  earth  to  take  that  loan  up  again,  but  simply 
could  not  do  it.  I  will  tell  Harry  how  you  dangled 
him  with  your  damnable  lies  until  it  was  too  late 
for  him  to  get  that  money  elsewhere.  And  how, 
with  your  hypocritical  offers  of  help  you  blocked 
every  one  of  the  desperate  efforts  of  himself  and  his 
friends  to  do  something.  It  all  unwound  easily 
enough,  after  I  had  once  forced  Hanba  to  talk.  If 
I  tell  Harry  that  you  threw  him  and  his  whole  fam- 
ily into  poverty  for  the  sake  of  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  dollars,  what  do  you  think  he  is  going  to 
do? 

"Kill  you !  All  he  can  do  is  to  kill  you,  and  he'll 
do  so  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  There  was  a 
time  in  his  life  before  he  went  to  Iowa  that  you  don't 
know  about  as  well  as  I  do.  He  seldom  speaks 
of  it  himself;  but  Clem  Harding  knew  him  in  those 
days.  If  I  tell  this  story  he'll  forget  the  thirty  years 
that  passed  between  Nevada  and  that  sheriff's  sale, 
and  all  hell  couldn't  keep  him  off  from  you. 

"I'm  giving  you  a  chance  simply  because  I  don't 
want  to  see  him  in  trouble  any  deeper  than  he  al- 
ready is.  But  if  he  does  kill  you  he'll  do  so  here, 
among  his  friends,  and  so  long  as  I'm  a  deputy  sheriff 
we'll  hang  any  jury  that  tries  him.  You  have  no 
chance,  Butler.    Give  me  that  check." 

(39) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

It  was  done.  "It  will  take  some  time  to  wind  up 
my  business,  Sam.  You  wouldn't  be  so  hard  if  you 
knew  all  the  circumstances — " 

"Your  train  leaves  in  about  two  hours.  I'll  at- 
tend to  closing  your  business.  Everything  will  be 
carefully  accounted  for,  and  the  proceeds  turned 
over  to  Mrs.  Warner.  I'm  going  now  to  cash  this 
check.     Be  sure  not  to  miss  that  train." 

Later  in  the  afternoon  Coulters  stopped  at  Hol- 
lington's  office  to  take  him  home  for  supper. 

"I  hear  that  Butler  has  left  town,"  said  Robert, 
"was  it  not  rather  sudden?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  supposed  you  knew  all  about  it,  for  I  saw  you 
talking  with  him  this  afternoon." 

"Oh  no,  Robert,  you  are  mistaken.  I  have  not 
seen  him  for  days." 

"All  right,"  laughed  the  young  doctor.  "I  sup- 
pose that  bulge  in  your  hip  pocket  is  natural?" 

"Sometimes  we  have  to  do  unpleasant  things. 
One  of  those  times  happened  today.  It  is  best  to 
try  to  forget  it." 

"Doctors  are  trained  not  to  gossip.  Do  you  know, 
Sam,  you  are  a  big  man.  If  this  whole  valley  knew 
what  I  do,  everyone  would  say,  'If  Sam  ran  him  out 
of  town,  he  must  have  had  good  reasons.'  I  don't 
know  of  a  soul  who  would  think  of  asking  why,  ex- 
cept for  motives  of  curiosity." 

"Here's  the  old  Warner  place,"  said  Coulters. 
Old — doesn't  the  word  hurt?  If  Speirs  had  sold  to 
a  white  man,  I  could  have  saved  Warner.     You  can 

(40) 


J.  P.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

always  reach  a  man  if  you  know  how.  No  white 
man  would  try  to  keep  that  place  under  the  circum- 
stances, he  couldn't  endure  the  adverse  opinion  of  a 
community." 

"There  are  thick  skinned  people  who  would 
stand  it  if  they  were  making  money." 

"I  can't  imagine  not  being  able  to  stop  a  man  by 
some  means.  But  these  Japanese !  They  under- 
stand only  what  they  want  to,  and  are  hardly  inter- 
ested in  what  we  think.  They're  scrappy  beggars, 
their  whole  army  is  behind  them  and  they  know  it, 
you  can't  scare  them  out.  Hanba  appears  to  regard 
McGowan  as  the  court  of  last  resort.  From  his  own 
point  of  view  his  actions  are  irreproachable.  He's 
not  responsible  for  our  laws,  nor  does  he  interpret 
them;  he  merely  follows  the  best  advice  he  can  get. 
He  simply  refuses,  whether  wilfully  or  not  I  really 
don't  know,  to  adopt  our  customs  along  with  our 
laws." 

"There  seems  to  be  quite  a  few  men  there.  Is 
Hanba  with  them?" 

"Hanba  is  merely  an  agent.  The  money  was  fur- 
nished from  Japan;  there  is  probably  a  certain 
amount  of  government  backing.  The  men  you  see 
are  peasants  of  the  lowest  type." 

"Why  so  many?" 

"They're  doing  a  great  deal  more  than  Harry 
ever  attempted.  It  must  be  the  intensive  farming 
of  which  we  have  so  long  heard.  Hello,  there's 
Clem." 

The  old  frontiersman  was  leaning  over  a  fence, 
(41) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

his  head  resting  on  his  arms,  his  pose  one  he  might 
have  been  holding  indefinitely.  He  didn't  hear  his 
friends  approach  until  Sam  called  to  him : 

"Hello,  Clem,  what's  new?" 

"I  was  just  thinking  that  I'm  not  lawyer  enough 
to  know  how  these  Japanese  got  here,  nor  minister 
enough  to  know  if  it's  right  for  them  to  stay;  but 
I  do  know  that  the  valley  was  a  lot  better  off  with 
Warner  than  with  them,  and  that  a  valley  full  of 
such  people  wouldn't  be  nearly  as  good  a  thing  for 
the  country  as  our  dear  old  Rosario." 

And  so  the  first  of  the  Mongolian  orchardists 
came  to  be  in  Eden  Valley. 


(42) 


CHAPTER  IV 

Sam  Coulters  Plays  Politics 

A  FTER  dinner  that  evening  Frances  and  Robert 
-*"*i  drifted  out  upon  the  porch.  Mrs.  Coulters 
was  busy  about  the  house,  and  her  husband  had  a 
meeting  to  attend  down  in  the  village.  The  meet- 
ings were  important  these  days,  for  there  were  al- 
ways some  poor,  despondent  souls  who  really  needed 
encouragement.  Ruth  had  given  up  boarding  school, 
but  she  conscientiously  devoted  her  evenings  to  keep- 
ing up  her  studies. 

"You  have  only  been  here  six  months,"  Frances 
was  saying,  "yet  you  have  changed  a  great  deal." 

"Have  I?    In  what  way?" 

"Do  you  remember  that  Clem  Harding  met  you 
when  you  came?  He  told  me  all  about  your  drive 
from  the  depot.  The  part  I  remember  most  clearly 
was  his  saying  that  while  you  had  learned  his  whole 
history,  he  had  not  even  found  out  your  name.  If 
you  had  that  same  drive  to  take  today  with  a 
stranger,  you  would  let  him  learn  a  little — not  much, 
but  still. something." 

"The  comparison  is  not  fair.  I  was  not  prepared 
for  people  such  as  you  Rosarians.  My  preconceived 
idea  of  farmers  came  from  stage  caricatures,  I'm 
afraid.  So  I'd  planned  to  devote  all  my  thoughts 
to  medicine." 

(43) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"You  did'nt  come  with  a  very  high  opinion  of  us, 
did  you?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  did'nt  know  there  was  such  a 
pure  democracy  in  the  world.  Dr.  Ailing  first  opened 
my  eyes.  He  has  nothing  to  yield  on  family  to  any 
of  my  old  circle,  and  where  I  was  brought  up  we 
regard  family,  as  a  matter  of  some  importance.  Pro- 
fessionally, there  are  not  many  of  his  age  who  have 
made  a  higher  mark.  I  know  better  than  you  the 
meaning  of  that  appointment  he  received  when  he 
left  here.  And  personally, — well,  you  knew  him 
much  more  intimately  than  I." 

"He  did  have  a  wonderful  personality,  didn't  he?" 

"He  certainly  did.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  fell 
under  his  influence?  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him  where 
would  I  have  learned  to  appreciate  the  people  here?" 

"That  may  have  helped,  but  the  change  is  really 
inside.  Six  months  ago  you  wouldn't  have  talked 
like  this  to  anyone.  By  the  way,  what  did  you  mean 
by  calling  us  such  a  pure  democracy?" 

"Simply  that  you  do  not  recognize  caste.  You  ad- 
mit no  social  superiority  above  you,  and  you  don't 
claim  much  social  inferiority  below  you.  According 
to  all  precedent,  people  living  on  small  farms  and 
doing  their  own  work,  men  and  women  as  well,  as  a 
class,  you  understand,  should  rank  but  little  above 
the  unskilled  laborer.  And  yet,  if  you  gave  the  mat- 
ter any  thought  you  would  regard  yourselves  as  just 
about  on  a  par  with  Millionaire's  Row  in  Coronado. 
But  of  course  you  don't  give  the  matter  any  thought, 
for  the  very  existence  of  this  condition  depends  on 

(44) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

your  not  doing  so.  It  all  affects  character  in  the 
aggregate.  Yielding  servility  to  some,  demanding 
even  more  servility  from  others,  is  bound  to  leave  an 
impression." 

"Do  you  often  hear  from  Dr.  Ailing?" 

"Oh,  yes,  regularly.  He  tells  me  about  his  ex- 
periences in  Chicago,  asks  about  his  old  friends  here, 
and  gives  me  good  advice." 

"What  sort  of  advice?" 

"He  has  high  ideals  of  the  position  a  doctor 
should  occupy  in  such  a-  place  as  this.  He  thinks  I 
can  and  should  exert  a  strong  influence  for  good  in 
this  valley.  Carry  it  out  to  its  logical  conclusion,  I 
should  not  only  treat  the  sick  but  minister  to  dis- 
eased minds.  Moreover  I  should  help  to  keep 
the  community  in  good  health,  and  that  implies  inter- 
ference in  the  most  minute  details  of  family  life. 
For  it  is  the  countless  little  things  that  in  the  aggre- 
gate determine  whether  you  are  to  be  well  and 
strong  or  not.  He  had  all  the  zeal  of  a  reformer, 
and  sometimes  he's  afraid  I'm  not  taking  my  work 
seriously  enough." 

"I  don't  see  why  he  should  be.  With  both  of  you, 
medicine  is  as  much  a  religion  as  a  profession.  Only 
you're  even  worse  than  Dr.  Ailing;  because  you  are 
younger,  I  suppose,  and  so  have  more  enthusiasm. 
By  the  way,  didn't  you  say  something  at  dinner  to 
night  about  having  gone  to  see  one  of  the  Japanese 
boys  on  the  old  Warner  place?  The  conversation 
turned  just  then,  and  I  had  no  opportunity  to  ask 
about  it." 

(45) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"One  of  them  was  kicked  by  a  horse  and  had 
his  leg  broken,  a  nasty  fracture  above  the  knee." 

"How  do  they  live,  how  do  they  keep  house?" 

"An  impossible  mixture  of  their  customs  and  ours. 
Do  you  remember  those  two  days  Dr.  Ailing  spent 
in  taking  me  everywhere,  to  fit  me  to  be  his  succes- 
sor? The  truck  gardener  had  a  lot  of  extra  work 
to  do  at  that  time;  he  had  fourteen  men  sleeping  in 
one  small  room.  And  instead  of  doing  everything 
they  could  for  ventilation,  they  burned  scented  punk 
to  make  the  room  habitable:  At  the  Warner  place, 
where  they're  not  crowded  for  room,  it's  only  by 
threats  that  I  can  get  my  patient  enough  fresh  air. 
Yet  most  of  our  rules  of  hygiene  they  accept  with 
implicit  faith,  often  not  even  pretending  to  under- 
stand them. 

"For  the  most  part  their  food  comes  to  them  in 
kegs  or  crates  from  the  Nippon  Merchandise  com- 
pany in  San  Diego.  I  didn't  pay  much  attention, 
for  I  thought  it  best  not  to  change  the  diet.  The 
race  has  lived  on  it  so  many  centuries  that  their  sys- 
tem needs  it.  Some  of  them  use  chairs  occasionally, 
but  sitting  on  the  floor  is  more  natural.  The  War- 
ners took  their  furniture  out,  as  you  remember,  and 
there's  been  very  little  put  in  to  replace  it.  Rooms 
that  are  not  being  used  have  been  allowed  to  accumu- 
late dust  and  trash.  A  few  cheap  Japanese  pictures 
are  on  the  wall,  and  there  are  some  Japanese  books 
and  old  newspapers  scattered  about,  usually  on  the 
floor.    The  garden  is  overgrown  with  weeds  and  is 

(46) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

dying,  and  everywhere  is  the  smell  that  tells  of  a 
different  race. 

"The  foreman's  wife  came  in  while  I  was  there. 
She  had  been  out  with  her  children;  one  of  them  she 
led  by  the  hand,  the  other  was  in  a  baby  buggy. 
She  had  dressed  herself,  as  well  as  them,  in  Euro- 
pean clothes.  No  style  and  no  fit,  but  clean;  that  the 
trio  could  roam  about  the  country  and  come  in  so 
nearly  immaculate  is  little  short  of  a  miracle.  There 
is  one  of  their  inconsistent  contrasts. 

"They're  an  interesting  people,  quick,  imitative, 
and  responsive,  until  unexpectedly  you  encounter  the 
stone  wall  that  marks  their  limitations.  Beyond  that 
you  have  the  mind  of  primitive  man.  I  don't  even 
try  to  understand  them,  although  they  amuse  and 
interest  me.  I've  found  that  you  can't  argue  them 
into  much  nor  drive  them  into  anything,  but  that 
they're  very  susceptible  to  ridicule.  Would  you  like 
to  go  over  there  with  me  sometime?" 

"Very  much.  Oh,  no,  I  couldn't,  not  to  the  War- 
ner place.     Doesn't  it  bother  you?" 

"The  manner  of  the  Warners  leaving  did,  more 
than  you  know.  But  there  are  two  entirely  separate 
conditions  here,  and  I  don't  feel  that  I'm  showing 
any  disloyalty  to  Harry  Warner  and  his  family  by 
treating  that  boy  with  the  broken  leg,  nor  by  being 
friendly  with  the  others.  Besides — why,  here  comes 
your  father!" 

"And  he  doesn't  look  any  too  well.  Father,  you're 
tired." 

(47) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I'm  worried;  have  you  heard  about  the  Kraem- 
ers?" 

"No,  what  about  them?" 

"The  interest  that  Hanba  represents,  whatever 
it  is,  has  bought  them  out.  They  had  almost  com- 
pleted a  deal  to  sell  to  a  northern  buyer,  but  he 
dropped  it  cold  when  he  heard  that  he  would  have  a 
Japanese  colony  for  a  neighbor.  Kraemer  grew 
discouraged.  No  one  knows  just  what  he  was  paid, 
but  the  price  was  ridiculous.  The  Kraemers  were 
lonely  without  the  Warners,  and  are  going  to  San 
Diego  to  make  a  home  for  Jeanette.  Perhaps  they 
will  be  happier,  but  Schumacker  and  Hancock  have 
now  become  contiguous  to  Hanba's  men.  Both  are 
bitter  toward  the  Kraemers  for  having  done  them 
what  they  regard  an  injury.  Both  sides  have  friends 
who  are  taking  up  the  quarrel,  and  there's  more 
feeling  in  this  valley  than  I've  ever  seen  before.  I 
don't  like  it  at  all,  but  I  don't  know  how  to  stop  it. 

"There  was  a  good  deal  of  rough  talk  to-night. 
Some,  frightened  by  the  rather  mysterious  way  in 
which  the  two  deals  were  made,  and  not  knowing 
where  the  infection  would  stop,  openly  advocated 
running  the  Japanese  out  of  the  valley.  It  can't  be 
done,  not  permanently,  but  it  wasn't  easy  to  get  the 
idea  suppressed." 

"Which  means,  I  suppose,  that  people  still  do 
what  father  tells  them  to,  but  that  he  had  to  fight 
them  to-night  to  make  them." 

"I  suppose  I  might  as  well  admit  it.  I  don't  want 
to  lose  my  grip  just  now,  especially  if  we  are  going 

(48) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

to  have  trouble.  And  we  surely  would  have  had  it 
if  those  hot  heads  had  had  their  way." 

"Are  you  afraid  that  the  Japanese  colony  will 
grow  much  larger?"  asked  Robert. 

"It  is  sure  to,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  can 
make  it  pay.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  the  sit- 
uation is  serious.  I've  been  in  Rosario  eighteen 
years,  Robert,  and  have  seen  this  valley  go  through 
a  great  many  ups  and  downs.  There  have  been  sea- 
sons, one  after  another,  when  we  would  make  a 
yearly  profit  equal  to  half  the  value  of  our  farms. 
On  the  other  hand,  last  winter's  freeze  is  only  one 
of  a  series  of  disasters.  We've  had  years  so  dry 
that  our  trees  shrivelled  and  our  crops  became  value- 
less. Time  and  again  insect  pests,  the  scale  and  the 
spider,  have  ruined  our  fruit.  I've  seen  our  markets 
so  glutted  that  we  simply  couldn't  sell.  Carload 
after  carload  of  fruit  has  left  here  to  be  put  on  the 
auction  block  in  the  east  without  bringing  enough 
to  pay  freight." 

"Nothing  has  ever  hurt  us  as  much  as  that  awful 
Christmas  storm,  and  yet  we're  pulling  through. 
On  the  whole,  we're  pretty  good  fighters;  the  weaker 
ones  have  dropped  out,  one  by  one,  as  the  years  went 
by.  We  are  facing  a  hard  summer,  harder,  perhaps, 
than  any  of  us  know.  Left  to  ourselves  we'd  win 
out  somehow;  we  always  have.  But  there  is  no 
margin  of  safety,  none  at  all.  Every  resource  will 
be  exhausted. 

"That's  why  this  new  trouble  is  so  bad.  Two 
small  farms  held  by  the  Japanese  don't  amount  to 

(49) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

anything,  and  with  all  the  feeling  there  is,  I  don't 
think  as  yet  there's  much  uneasiness.  But  look 
ahead;  if  they  can  make  two  pay,  twenty  would  do 
the  same.  I  know  they  can,  even  better  than  they  do 
themselves.    The  time  to  stop  this  thing  is  now." 

"Can  you  do  it,  father?" 

"I  can  try,"  was  the  grim  answer. 

So  Sam  Coulters  went  down  out  of  the  mountains, 
and  paid  a  visit  to  an  old  friend.  Rutherford  White 
was  more  than  a  friend,  he  was  popularly  regarded 
as  the  political  boss  of  the  southwestern  counties. 
He  was  thoroughly  glad  to  see  the  mountaineer,  and 
his  welcome  showed  it. 

"And  now  tell  us  what  you're  doing  in  this  part 
of  the  world?"  asked  the  politician. 

"I  came  to  see  you,"  said  Coulters,  who  didn't 
often  indulge  in  finesse. 

"You  know  I'm  always  glad  to  do  anything  I  can 
for  you." 

"There's  something  you  have  to  do  for  me  now, 
whether  you  can  or  not.  The  governor  has  called 
the  legislature  in  special  session  next  month.  I  want 
a  law  passed  to  prevent  the  Japanese  from  owning 
land  in  California." 

"Gee,  but  that  is  a  big  order.  Tell  us  about  it." 
So  Sam  told  of  the  experience  in  Rosario,  and  of  his 
fears  for  the  future.  White  listened  with  close  at- 
tention, and  at  the  conclusion  answered: 

"I  see  there  is  no  use  trying  to  offer  you  anything 
else.  I  will  see  Diester  in  Sacramento,  and  let  you 
know  if  your  wish  can  possibly  be  fulfilled." 

(50) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

"That  will  never  do,  never  in  the  world.  I  want 
that  legislation,  not  a  lot  of  explanations  and  kind 
regrets.  You  and  I  have  worked  together  and  been 
friends  for  a  long  time,  but  this  is  bigger  than  friend- 
ship. If  I  can't  get  what  I  want  through  you,  I'm 
going  where  I  can.  Honestly  now,  you  aren't  going 
to  force  me  to  go  to  Buddy  Haynes?" 

"No !  I  told  you  I  would  do  all  I  could." 

"Let  us  put  our  hands  on  the  table.  Diester  will 
do  this  for  you  if  you  trade  him  enough.  You  have 
so  much  asked  of  you  that  your  trading  stock  won't 
go  round,  and  you  figure  you  can  only  afford  a  cer- 
tain amount  to  keep  Rosario  in  line.  Ordinarily 
you  could  try  to  barter  with  me,  but  just  now  you 
can't.  Haynes  has  given  you  the  fight  of  your  life 
and  while  you  have  him  beaten,  yet  you  are  counting 
on  my  vote  and  on  Clark  and  Redding.  I  know 
what  your  majority  in  the  county  central  committee 
is;  it  is  just  four.  And  you  know  why  Clark  and 
Redding  will  vote  as  I  tell  them.  Come  now,  don't 
make  me  threaten  you,  do  I  get  my  law?" 

"You  win,  but  you'll  have  to  come  to  Sacramento 
to  help." 

The  weeks  of  inaction  waiting  for  the  legislature 
to  meet  were  a  trial  to  Coulters.  For  he  was  a 
fighter  rather  than  a  strategist.  Three  more  farms 
were  bought  in  Hanba's  name  during  that  period, 
in  spite  of  Sam's  almost  frantic  efforts  to  keep  his 
people  together.  There  was  the  little  Frenchman, 
Delaque.  He  had  been  unable  to  get  an  extension 
on  his  mortgage,  and  he  blamed  this  failure  on  in- 

(51) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

terference  by  Hanba.  Whatever  the  truth  of  the 
matter  might  be,  the  fact  was  that  one  of  the  latter's 
emissaries  offered  Delaque  a  few  hundred  dollars 
for  his  equity.  And  as  the  tender  was  carefully 
timed  so  as  to  catch  the  owner  in  a  fit  of  despond- 
ency, and  so  skilfully  handled  as  to  exaggerate  his 
fear  that  he  might  get  nothing,  the  deal  was  closed 
without  much  ado.  Hancock,  still  protesting  that 
Kraemer  had  been  a  renegade,  inconsistently  sold 
his  own  place  to  Hanba,  and  left  the  valley  over 
night. 

Then  there  was  Packhard's  farm.  The  peculiar 
conditions  attending  its  purchase  were  at  once  puz- 
zling and  menacing.  It  lay  almost  across  the  valley 
from  the  Warner  homestead.  Though  of  only 
twenty  acres,  it  was  the  show  place  of  Rosario,  and 
was  surrounded  by  carefully  kept  orchards.  The  one 
striking,  outstanding  fact  was  that  Ralph  Packhard 
had  demanded  and  obtained  its  fair  market  value. 
Could  all  this  mean  anything  except  a  deep  strategic 
move?  If  that  were  the  case,  then  there  must  be  an 
organized  effort  to  drive  every  white  man  from 
Eden  Valley. 

It  seemed  to  Coulters  as  though  the  days  had 
never  dragged  as  they  did  the  week  before  the  legis- 
lature met.  But  the  time  finally  did  come  for  him 
to  go  to  Sacramento.  More  anxious  was  he  than 
when  he  had  last  seen  White.  Indeed,  he  had  no 
settled  plan  beyond  this  law  that  he  had  been  prom- 
ised. White  and  Coulters  together  called  on  Diester. 
White  had  been  true  to  his  pledge;  everything  was 

(52) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

arranged  with  the  big  state  boss  and  neither  politi- 
1  cian  anticipated  any  difficulties.  They  discussed  the 
wording  of  the  bill,  they  discussed  the  arguments 
to  be  used  in  its  favor,  and  all  the  time  Diester,  who 
had  asked  to  meet  Coulters,  studied  the  rancher  with 
interest.  So  this  was  the  man  who  was  strong  enough 
to  make  the  great  state  machine  obey  his  mandate ! 
Such  a  personality  was  worth  knowing,  for  there  was 
no  telling  when  it  might  be  useful. 

Coulters  had  reached  Sacramento  charged  with 
enthusiasm  for  the  fight  on  his  bill.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  work  incessantly,  to  meet  legislators  and 
senators,  to  plead  with  the  country  members,  and  to 
argue  with  the  committeemen.  He  was  prepared  to 
overcome  opposition,  to  conquer  lethargy,  to  lobby 
with  heart  and  soul.  He  had  told  himself  that  he 
must  not  overestimate  Diester's  influence,  that  while 
the  latter's  aid  was  absolutely  necessary,  it  was  him- 
self and  no  other  who  would  force  the  lawmakers 
to  save  Rosario. 

He  was  by  instinct  an  organizer.  He  had  been 
on  the  inside  of  many  a  factional  fight  in  his  district, 
and  in  his  county.  So  he  considered  himself  pretty 
well  posted  on  how  business  would  be  done  at  the 
capital.  Yet  he  was  astonished  at  the  progress  of 
his  bill,  once  Diester  had  ordered  it  passed. 

It  was  introduced  simultaneously  in  the  upper  and 
lower  house,  and  turned  over  to  the  committees  with- 
out comment.  By  them  it  was  reported  favorably 
and  without  delay,  and  without  discussion  as  far  as 
Coulters  knew.    When  in  due  time  it  was  called  up 

(53) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

no  opposition  appeared.  A  labor  member  from  San 
Francisco  seized  the  opportunity  to  attack  the  Jap- 
anese all  along  the  line.  A  rancher  from  the  Oro- 
ville  country  spoke  feelingly  of  some  local  experi- 
ences. The  question  was  put  to  a  vote;  a  few  per- 
functory ayes,  no  noes,  and  it  was  done. 

Diester,  White,  and  Coulters  called  on  the  gover- 
nor. The  chief  executive  looked  ostentatiously  at 
his  watch,  as  he  began  to  question  Coulters.  The 
first  few  answers  brought  an  end  to  the  effort  to  rush 
the  interview.  The  head  of  the  state  was  interested 
— interested  in  the  man  no  less  than  in  the  measure. 
Here  was  a  lobbyist  who  was  unselfishly  pleading 
for  others;  a  crusader  in  practical  politics.  It  was 
so  refreshing,  such  a  contrast  to  the  sordid  routine 
of  his  office,  that  when  a  secretary  tried  to  interrupt 
him  he  waved  the  man  aside  and  told  Coulters  to 
continue. 

And  Sam  poured  out  his  heart  to  a  man  who  really 
cared,  the  first  he  had  met  since  leaving  home.  When 
he  had  finished  the  governor  formally  shook  his 
hand. 

"I  will  sign  your  bill,  Mr.  Coulters,  and  I  am 
proud  to  do  so.  If  you  gentlemen,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  the  others,  "would  come  to  me  oftener  with 
laws  like  this,  and  a  man  like  this,  my  life  would 
not  be  quite  so  much  of  a  grind." 

The  mountaineer  returned  to  his  hotel,  tired  but 
happy.  After  all,  five  farms  held  by  the  aliens  was 
not  a  very  serious  matter.  Besides,  it  was  now  only  a 
question  of  time  until  the  titles  would  revert  to  the 

(54) 


SAM  COULTERS  PLAYS  POLITICS 

whites.  It  was  characteristic  that  he  did  not  specu- 
late on  what  the  results  of  a  possible  failure  might 
have  been.  Nor  did  he  flood  Rosario  with  self- 
laudatory  telegrams.  In  fact  he  sent  only  one.  It 
was  to  his  wife,  and  said  simply  that  he  would  start 
home  the  following  day.  And  the  faithful  spouse, 
reading  between  the  lines,  and  having  had  a  quarter 
century  of  experience,  knew  that  her  strong  mate 
had  once  more  put  his  shoulder  to  a  task  and  had 
done  so  with  success. 

At  twelve  o'clock  noon  there  was  to  take  place  the 
formal  signing  of  the  now  famous  Japanese  land- 
owners' bill.  Coulters  had  remained  in  Sacramento 
one  extra  day  in  order  to  attend  the  ceremony.  But 
at  nine  o'clock  a  uniformed  messenger  arrived  from 
the  executive  mansion,  demanding  Sam's  immediate 
presence. 

He  was  admitted,  without  delay,  to  the  governor's 
study. 

"I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  some  very  disagreeable 
news,  Mr.  Coulters.  Your  enemies  have  a  long 
reach.  The  matter  we  discussed  yesterday  was  taken 
up  in  Washington  between  our  secretary  of  state  and 
the  Japanese  ambassador.  An  hour  ago  I  received 
a  telegram  from  the  president  himself;  a  telegram  I 
could  not  disregard." 

"Then  you  mean — you  are  undecided  about  that 
bill?" 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Coulters,  and  very  much 
ashamed  of  our  national  diplomacy.  But  I  cannon 
plunge  the  country  into  war,  so  I  have  already  ex- 
ercised my  veto."  (  55  ) 


CHAPTER  V 

Love  at  Sunrise 

T>  ILLY  EVANS  was  giving  a  house  party,  a  party 
•U  of  twelve  that  taxed  the  capacity  of  the  mine 
superintendent's  quarters.  His  sister  was  ostensibly 
hostess.  So,  of  course,  Arthur  Hancock  was  there, 
quiet,  hardworking,  serious  Arthur  Hancock,  whose 
devotion  to  Evangeline  Evans  was  the  romance  of 
the  valley.  For  two  years  he  had  paid  her  court  in 
his  own  way,  which  was  to  keep  himself  in  the  back- 
ground and  to  try  to  forestall  her  every  wish.  He 
was  always  unselfishly  considerate  of  others,  and 
with  her  he  carried  this  quality  to  a  climax.  And 
she,  well,  who  can  read  a  woman's  heart?  All  that 
Rosario  knew,  and  if  the  truth  be  told,  probably  all 
the  principals  themselves  knew,  was  that  he  had 
never  quite  been  able  to  persuade  her  to  leave  her 
brother  and  keep  house  in  Eden  Valley. 

Of  course,  Frances  Coulters  was  there.  If  every- 
thing must  have  a  motif,  she  was  the  motif  of  this 
gathering.  A  mass  of  golden  hair,  the  brightest  blue 
eyes  that  ever  smiled  a  welcome,  a  determined  little 
mouth  and  chin — determined  when  in  repose  but 
forever  on  the  verge  of  laughter,  such  she  was  to 
Billy.  Her  other  attributes  must  have  been  nearly 
enough  perfect  not  to  have  spoiled  the  picture,  for 
the  impression  she  had  made  on  his  susceptible  heart 
was  the  kind  that  comes  to  such  a  man  but  once  in  a 

(56) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

lifetime.  He  simply  wouldn't  take  no  for  an  an- 
swer; he  begged  so  hard  for  friendship  and  com- 
panionship where  he  had  failed  to  win  love  that  she 
hadn't  had  the  heart  to  refuse  him  that  solace.  And 
she  liked  him  and  gave  him  a  friendship  so  sweet 
and  noble  that  it  made  his  fate  so  much  the  harder 
to  bear.  Through  it  all  he  had  to  appear  cheerful 
and  happy.  He  well  knew  that  if  he  ever  broke  in 
her  presence,  if  she  ever  really  saw  and  understood 
the  suffering  that  lay  back  of  his  jests  and  light  love 
making,  she  would  end  the  situation  forever. 

With  Frances  came  her  father  and  mother,  the 
official  chaperones,  and  her  sister.  Dr.  Hollington 
was  invited  with  the  Coulters.  Had  he  not  been 
generally  regarded  as  the  host's  rival  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  included  and  Billy  Evans  was  far 
too  true  a  sport  to  have  thought  of  leaving  him  out 
through  any  feeling  of  jealousy. 

The  Sanfords  and  the  Whites  were  there,  young 
married  couples  of  whom  Billy  and  Evangeline  were 
fond.  They  were  comparatively  newcomers;  the 
Sanfords  had  lived  in  Rosario  less  than  a  year,  while 
the  Whites  had  come  in  during  the  last  few  months, 
straight  from  their  honeymoon. 

Saturday  afternoon  was  given  over  to  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  mine.  Once  the  guests  were  assembled 
they  were  taken  deep  into  the  earth,  where  miners 
with  pick  and  shovel,  with  air  compressors  and  dyna- 
mite, were  following  the  easily  distinguishable  veins. 
The  visitors  were  shown  the  endless  chains  that 
brought  the  rock  to  the  surface,  the  conveyors  that 

(57) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

put  it  under  the  powerful  stamps.  They  saw  the 
resultant  powder  thrown  into  tanks,  and  had  ex- 
plained to  them  how  cyanide  of  potassium  is  able  to 
dissolve  metallic  gold.  They  wandered  through  the 
reduction  plant,  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  virgin  gold, 
watched  some  assays  made  for  their  benefit,  and 
generally  absorbed  knowledge  on  the  art  of  working 
low  grade  ore. 

And  they  felt,  more  or  less  consciously,  that  at 
the  heart  of  all  this  there  was  a  real  man.  Fifty 
primates  working  underground,  their  bodies  devel- 
oped, their  brains  but  little  used,  disclosed  that 
Evans  was  more  than  their  employer — he  was  their 
leader.  On  the  surface  as  well  everything  showed 
the  effects  of  a  strong  hand,  sparingly  used.  Such  a 
smooth  running  machine  as  the  Mountain  Lion  Mine 
was  a  monument  to  the  efficiency  of  Billy  Evans. 

An  informal  supper  was  served  on  the  front 
porch.  Cold  meats  and  salads  were  on  the  side- 
board, and  everyone  helped  himself  or  was  waited 
on  by  her  escort.  The  mine  inspection  had  been 
hard  work  which  had  sharpened  appetites  at  the 
expense  of  conversation.  So  it  was  a  quiet  meal,  or 
would  have  been  but  for  the  host.  He  was  as  ever 
the  life  of  the  party. 

When  the  sunset  came,  conversation  lagged  under 
the  influence  of  the  golden  clouds  and  purpling  hills. 
Not  even  a  rustle  of  air  could  be  heard  as  little  by 
little  there  stole  in  the  sounds  of  the  mountains.  A 
few  minutes  more  and  the  stars  were  shining,  for 
southwestern  twilights  are  momentary.     Then  the 

(58) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

Evanses  led  their  guests  into  the  living  room,  to  a 
blazing  fire  and  a  cheerful  warmth. 

But  the  spell  of  the  sunset,  the  call  of  the  moun- 
tains, was  upon  them  still.  It  developed  that  at  less 
than  an  hour's  ride  lay  a  wonderful  spot,  a  spot  over- 
looking the  Salton  sea  and  the  desert  and  the  rocky 
hills.  And  the  talk  grew  of  getting  up  early  and 
going  there  to  see  the  sun  rise  out  of  the  Colorado. 
Some  would  go;  those  who  would  not  or  could  not 
urged  the  hesitating  ones.  The  party  finally  ar- 
ranged was  Frances  and  Ruth  Coulters  and  Evange- 
line Evans,  Billy  Evans,  Dr.  Hollington  and  Arthur 
Hancock.  That  disposed  of,  Sam  Coulters  became 
the  target  of  attack. 

"I  hear  your  friends  in  Sacramento  had  an  ace 
in  the  hole,"  said  Evans. 

"And  the  case  ace  at  that,"  answered  Coulters, 
with  a  grin. 

"So,  of  course,  you  have  quit.  What  is  the  next 
play,  Sam?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Which  means  you  won't  tell.  All  right.  But 
one  of  these  days  I  may  find  time  hanging  heavy 
on  my  hands,  and  bring  down  a  bunch  of  my  huskies 
to  run  all  those  Japanese  out  of  Rosario." 

"Could  you  keep  them  out  after  doing  so?" 

"Might,  unless  I  thought  of  some  other  form  of 
amusement.  Perhaps  I  would  change  my  mind  when 
I  got  all  those  men  down  in  the  valley,  and  run  off 
with  Frances  instead.  She  looks  as  though  she 
needed  a  little  mountain  air." 

(59) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"But  no  mountaineer,"  from  Frances. 

"Then  I  will  take  Ruth." 

"Nothing  doing.  I  will  never,  never  be  second 
choice." 

"Correct;  it  will  have  to  be  Frances.  Would  not 
life  be  lovely  if  I  didn't  have  to  make  a  date  every 
time  I  wanted  to  see  you?  And  we  could  have  a  real 
fight,  too.  The  doctor  would  have  a  battery  of  bac- 
teria tubes  to  defend  you.    How  about  it?" 

But  Robert  did  not  respond.  He  wanted  to  but 
could  not.  His  mind  was  on  the  morning's  ride, 
although  he  was  talking  to  Mrs.  White  about  some 
recent  New  York  plays.  He  was  shocked,  too,  just 
a  little,  that  anything  so  sacred  should  be  treated  as 
a  joke.  And  if  not  ashamed,  he  was  at  least  a  bit 
disappointed  in  himself  that  he  couldn't  join  in  the 
spirit  in  which  it  was  all  meant.  He  knew  that  he'd 
always  been  more  or  less  popular  at  home,  that  he 
usually  had  something  interesting  and  appropriate 
to  say.  Yet  here  often,  as  tonight,  his  failure  to 
take  the  cue  had  brought  frivolity  to  an  end.  And 
he  was  big  enough  to  assume  the  blame,  instead  of 
holding  it  against  these  Californians. 

In  the  morning  with  the  stars  still  shining  and 
darkness  out  of  doors  the  riders  assembled.  Evange- 
line and  Frances  wore  their  farm  riding  clothes, 
baggy,  loose-fitting  suits  of  khaki.  Arthur  and 
Robert  had  borrowed  some  trousers  and  leggings 
at  the  mine.  Evans  was  dressed  as  he  was  the 
evening  before.  He  made  his  apologies,  while  the 
girls  brought  in  coffee  and  hot  rolls.     Some  obscure 

(60) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

trouble,  which  demanded  his  personal  and  immediate 
attention,  had  developed  in  one  of  his  conveyors. 
Neither  was  Ruth  going,  either  because  she  really 
had  the  headache  she  pleaded,  or  because  she  was 
too  proud  to  be  an  odd  member. 

The  expedition  was  not  long  in  starting.  Arthur, 
acting  as  guide,  took  the  lead.  There  was  little  op- 
portunity for  conversation,  the  trail  was  too  narrow 
and  too  steep.  The  riders  had  to  trust  everything 
to  the  superior  eyesight  of  their  mounts,  as  these 
picked  their  way  among  the  boulders. 

In  order  to  avoid  the  brush,  for  awhile  the  trail 
followed  the  bottom  of  a  dry  ravine.  It  was  a  steep 
little  canon  and  very  rough,  for  it  had  been  cut  by 
water  which  came  only  at  intervals,  but  came  then 
furiously  determined  to  get  down  from  the  moun- 
tains. After  half  a  mile  the  trail  turned  abruptly 
up  one  of  the  banks,  from  which  with  a  short,  steep, 
gasping  ascent,  the  easier  traveling  of  the  mesa  was 
reached.  Here,  except  for  desperate  plunges  in  and 
out  of  washes,  the  contour  of  the  canon  head  was 
followed  to  the  fork  of  the  ridge.  The  side  of  this 
ridge  was  a  mass  of  loose  rocks,  varying  in  size 
from  pebble  to  house.  Soft,  rotten,  weather-beaten, 
it  was  piled  as  steep  as  it  could  lie  without  slipping. 
Up  this  the  horses  toiled  in  long  zig-zags.  Often 
they  would  have  to  test  a  spot  with  their  front  feet; 
then  would  come  an  indescribable  lurch,  while  the 
weight  was  being  shifted  so  the  hind  legs  could  be 
brought  to  the  same  level.  But  they  were  all  wise 
old  animals,  well  used  to  every  phase  of  mountain 

(61) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

life.  So  it  was  that  finally,  after  much  hard  work, 
though  without  danger  or  excitement,  they  all 
reached  the  top. 

It  was  still  dark.  There  was  little  the  eye  could 
see  save  the  bare  outlines  of  the  surrounding  hills. 
It  was  cold,  with  the  still,  dry  cold  of  the  summit 
that  sucks  the  body's  warmth.  How  clear  were  the 
stars,  and  how  near  they  seemed,  shining  through 
the  dustless  air !  The  sky  must  be  cloudless,  for  the 
little  iridescent  pin  pricks  were  everywhere — every- 
where except  in  the  east.  There  was  a  stretch  of  sky 
against  the  horizon  which  was  brighter  than  one 
would  have  thought,  for  all  the  stars  within  it  were 
extinguished. 

The  dawn  was  coming,  and  as  the  minutes  passed 
the  stars  became  less  distinct.  The  eye  could  not 
see  the  changing.  In  fact,  in  this  whole  wonderful 
panorama  that  was  about  to  be  unfolded,  in  the  pro- 
gression from  stygian  darkness  to  the  most  brilliant 
of  natural  lights  there  was  not  as  much  as  a  varia- 
tion in  shading  or  in  color  that  could  be  detected  at 
the  time,  that  could  be  detected  at  all  except  by  mem- 
ory. A  bright  star  shone  in  the  east  well  above  the 
sky  line.  A  few  moments  later  it  was  dimmed;  the 
next  time  one  looked  for  it  it  was  gone,  absorbed  by 
the  fast  growing  semicircle  that  held  no  stars. 

The  silhouettes  of  the  surrounding  hills  began  to 
show  a  bit  of  detail — a  stray  chapparel,  perhaps,  or 
a  jagged  pile  of  granite.  To  the  west  were  the 
twinkling  lights  of  Rosario,  and  of  other  and  fur- 

(62) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

ther  settlements,  separated  from  the  watchers  by 
great,  black  masses  of  hills.  To  the  east,  the  far 
off  mountains  began  to  appear  as  mist,  as  the  coming 
of  the  day  added  to  the  faint  light  of  the  stars. 
Now  the  general  nature  of  the  country  could  be  dis- 
tinguished; rough,  rolling,  intermittently  descending 
hills  to  the  west,  to  the  east  a  precipitous  broken 
decline  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  feet  to  the 
level  flow  of  the  desert  itself. 

Something  flat  stretched  away  to  the  horizon, 
something  that  might  have  been  the  ocean,  or  a  sea 
of  fog,  or  a  misty  chaos;  something  that  engulfed 
the  great  jagged  fingers  that  ran  out  from  the  moun- 
tainous rock-pile.  Something  that  exerted  the  spell 
of  Circe  upon  the  watchers  on  the  ridge.  But  be- 
tween lay  the  very  gates  of  hell,  an  inverted  pyra- 
mid, perhaps  half  a  mile  across,  that  even  in  this 
half  light  made  one  shudder  at  its  frightfulness. 
And  ever  as  more  details  were  revealed  the  horror 
grew,  the  while  there  came  to  the  horizon  a  long, 
thin  line  of  wondrous  pink. 

With  no  warning  there  came  the  sunburst,  bril- 
liant rays  of  color  shooting  to  the  zenith.  Range 
after  range  of  rock  hills  were  coming  into  view,  the 
nearer  ones  in  white  and  black,  without  intermediate 
shades;  those  farther  away  dimmer  and  dimmer  un- 
til they  merged  into  the  horizon's  clouds.  One  long, 
ragged  shoulder  ran  across  the  eastern  heavens,  its 
skyline  marking  in  glorious  contrast  the  night  and 
the  day.     By  now  the  hell  hole  stood  revealed,  a 

(63) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

circle  of  spurs  dropping  to  abysmal  depths.  Some 
of  these  ribs  were  of  huge  brown  rocks,  devoid  of 
earth  or  of  life,  for  all  the  world  as  though  poured 
out  of  a  magic  basket.  Some  were  covered  with  the 
chips  that  had  come  from  the  disintegration  of  the 
granite,  looking  at  a  distance  almost  like  sand,  and 
offering  refuge  to  an  occasional  stunted  bush. 

By  this  time,  it  might  almost  be  said  that  daylight 
had  come.  There  remained  but  to  make  what  could 
be  seen  a  little  clearer  and  brighter.  To  the  left 
five  ranges  of  mountains,  one  above  another,  ran 
into  the  desert.  The  farthest  was  a  blurred  blue, 
the  next  a  soft  pink,  while  the  centre  one  was  sap- 
phire. The  nearest  range  was  dull  grey,  the  re- 
maining one  a  brown.  On  the  right  new  hills  were 
coming  up  in  the  distance,  soft,  greyish-blue  masses 
were  resolving  themselves  either  into  hills  or  into 
clouds.  The  hell  hole  just  below  was  more  hideous 
than  ever,  and  stronger  grew  the  impression  that 
beyond  it  lay  others,  in  tiers  and  terraces  to  the  foot 
of  the  hills.  In  spots,  growing  and  merging,  the 
level  stretches  became  the  brown,  barren  valley  floor. 

An  incandescent  line  shows  over  the  sand  hills  by 
the  Colorado,  it  turns  to  a  segment,  to  a  great  cop- 
per ball  of  fire.  The  pink  band  above  the  sun  turns 
yellow;  another  day  has  begun.  At  first  the  change 
was  slight.  On  all  sides  great  rocky  ridges,  running 
here  and  there,  oppressed  with  a  feeling  of  nearness. 
In  that  wonderful  air  and  light  the  eye  had  no  con- 
ception of  distance,  the  immediate  hills  gave  no  sug- 

(64) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

gestion  of  having  thickness,  nor  of  being  widely  sep- 
arated; they  were  like  the  painted  scenes  of  the  stage, 
rising  one  behind  another.  This  impression  spread 
rapidly  as  the  sun  rose  to  several  times  its  own  diam- 
eter, spread  until  immense  mountains  miles  in  length 
and  thousands  of  feet  in  height  looked  like  gigantic 
cardboards  standing  on  edge. 

Color  came  slowly  to  this  scene,  but  came  gor- 
geously and  lavishly.  Nothing  could  be  added  to 
the  horrible  grey  of  the  valley  just  below,  but  the 
walls,  especially  the  farther  ones,  turned  to  a  glor- 
ious purple,  a  promise  of  beauty  beyond.  A  kaleido- 
scope of  color  ran  riot;  the  hill  that  at  one  moment 
was  pink  would  turn  red  or  yellow  or  blue  with  the 
changing  moods  of  the  heavens.  The  deep  saffron 
of  the  distant  Salton  sea  alone  was  constant,  while 
the  rocks,  the  hills,  the  mountains,  the  sky  and  all 
outdoors  took  on  a  boldness  of  outline  and  a  bril- 
liancy of  tone  no  human  artist  would  dare  adopt. 

Hollington  finally  broke  the  silence.  "I  suppose 
you  have  seen  all  of  this  before?"  he  said  to  Frances. 
The  others  had  moved  to  a  boulder  a  few  hundred 
feet  away. 

"I've  been  here  a  number  of  times,"  replied 
Frances,  "but  one  could  never  see  it  all." 

"To  me  it's  a  symbol  of  life.  There  is  a  parallel 
between  the  trail  we  came  up  this  morning  and  the 
years  I  have  spent  in  training  and  study.  The  top 
of  that  ridge  represents  attainment.  I  had  become 
a  fairly  successful  doctor,  but  I  was  still  in  the  dark. 

(65) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Ignorantly  so,  too,  for  I  thought  the  light  of  the 
stars  was  the  light  of  life.  And  then  I  met  you. 
What  is  that  but  the  faint  light  that  dimmed  the 
stars,  the  light  that  showed  what  a  greater  thing 
there  is  in  life  than  mere  success?  I  could  no  more 
tell  you,  Frances,  when  I  began,  to  love  you,  than  I 
could  point  to  that  marvelous  scene  below  us,  and 
tell  you  at  what  moment  in  the  past  hour  it  ceased  to 
be  dark  and  became  light.  My  love  for  you  has 
changed  me  no  less  than  the  sun  has  changed  this 
picture.  Frances,  I  want  to  live  for  you.  I  want  to 
have  you  with  me  always.  Not  even  such  a  wonder 
as  we  have  just  seen  could  mean  anything  to  me  un- 
less you  stood  beside  me  to  share  it.  Nothing  I 
could  accomplish  would  be  worth  while  unless  it  were 
being  done  for  you.  What  a  dream  it  would  be  to 
have  a  home,  the  home  that  you  could  make  for  me ; 
to  spend  all  my  time  in  doing  things  for  you,  in 
trying  to  make  you  happy — and  perhaps  when  every- 
thing went  wrong,  to  go  to  you  for  just  the  touch  of 
sympathy  that  would  make  all  bright  and  cheerful 
once  more.  I  love  you.  Is  there  any  chance,  Fran- 
ces, that  you — that  you — that  you  could  ever  care 
enough  for  me  to  make  this  dream  come  true?" 

"Robert,  I  do  care  for  you — more  than  for  any- 
one— more  than  I  have  ever  cared  for  anyone.  But 
I  have  never  thought  of  such  things  as  this.  Give 
me  a  little  time  Robert.  Just  as  soon  as  I  know, 
it  cannot  be  long,  I  will  tell  you." 

"Here  come  Evangeline  and  Arthur.  Will  you 
look  at  their  faces?    We  do  not  seem  to  be  the  only 

(66) 


LOVE  AT  SUNRISE 

ones  who  were  carried  away  by  the  glories  of  this 
sunrise.  Well,  we  are  to  congratulate  you?"  she 
continued,  as  the  others  came  into  earshot. 

"You  certainly  are,"  replied  Arthur. 

There  was  a  suspicious  degree  of  warmth  in  the 
kiss  that  Frances  gave  Evangeline,  in  the  handclasp 
that  Robert  gave  them  both. 


(67) 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Rosario  School 

^T^HERE  are  almost  as  many  kinds  of  teachers  as 
-*-  there  are  kinds  of  people,  so  it  would  open  too 
wide  a  field  of  philosophy  to  trace  the  chain  of  events 
that  placed  Miss  Tibbetts  in  the  Rosario  school. 
Perhaps  the  seed  might  be  found  in  the  good  old 
days  when  the  ambition  of  every  big  boy  was  to 
whip  the  schoolmaster,  an  ambition  that  was  most, 
effectively  checked  by  the  appointment  of  some  nice 
young  lady,  to  whom  he  made  love  instead.  Per- 
haps it  lay  in  the  passing  of  the  big  boys  and  the 
fights,  or  in  the  custom  of  normal  graduates  to  begin 
their  careers  in  the  country.  In  any  event,  there 
was  a  building  in  Eden  Valley  dedicated  to  educa- 
tion, so  of  course  there  had  to  be  a  teacher. 

Miss  Tibbetts  was  a  product  of  the  modern  sys- 
tem. She  was  fairly  well  educated  herself,  and 
trained  in  the  most  scientific  way  of  imparting  knowl- 
edge. She  owned  a  highly  ornate  certificate  setting 
forth  her  qualifications  as  her  teachers  saw  them, 
but  saying  nothing  of  her  knowledge  of  human 
nature  nor  of  her  ability  to  meet  conditions  not  dealt 
with  in  the  text  books. 

In  the  first  place  she  was  unsophisticated.  That 
is  a  dangerous  word,  for  we  are  all  unsophisticated, 
from  the  convent  girl  to  him  who  imagines  himself 
a  man  of  the  world.     The  average  young  girl  of 

(68) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

today  knows  so  much  more  than  did  grandmothers 
when  of  the  same  age  that  she  regards  her  ancestors 
as  decidedly  unsophisticated.  And  her  married  sis- 
ter, having  listened  to  many  excuses  and  tales  of  high 
life,  similarly  regards  the  younger  woman.  Beyond 
them  is  the  good,  honest,  every-day  man,  next  the 
man  who  tries  to  distinguish  between  sport  and  real 
vice.  Further  we  need  not  go.  But  the  answer 
could  be  found  only  in  the  worst  person  in  the  world, 
and  his  brain  would  be  so  befuddled  that  his  opinions 
would  be  of  no  value. 

Whatever  you  may  think  of  the  others,  and  what- 
ever standard  you  may  adopt,  you  will  have  to  grant 
that  Miss  Tibbetts  was  not  sophisticated.  The  eld- 
est child  of  a  widow,  her  life  as  far  back  as  she  could 
remember  had  meant  work.  Congenial  and  not  too 
hard,  it  had  demanded  her  time  without  checking 
her  development.  Household  duties  in  a  home  of 
refinement,  and  study  in  high  school  and  normal,  left 
little  time  for  leisure.  The  years  that  in  other  girls 
developed  the  instinct  for  mating  she  had  devoted 
with  a  singleness  of  purpose  to  preparing  herself 
for  her  profession. 

The  flux  from  this  crucible  was  an  altogether 
charming  little  virgin,  beloved  by  the  grown  ups  for 
her  personality  and  by  the  children  for  her  unfailing 
sweetness.  She  couldn't  control  her  classes,  she 
didn't  pretend  to.  She  followed  the  precepts  of  her 
training  doggedly,  almost  mechanically.  The  while, 
she  won  her  scholars  with  tact  and  real  affection, 

(69) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

and  accomplished  more  than  the  sternest  of  disciplin- 
arians could  have  done. 

Into  the  school,  when  the  first  rush  of  the  winter 
work  was  over,  came  three  Japanese.  Half  men 
and  half  boys  they  were,  ambitious  to  learn  the  west- 
ern ways,  yet  purely  oriental  in  every  habit  of 
thought.  It's  not  so  many  years  since  our  own  for- 
bears went  to  school  after  they  were  almost  grown. 
But  the  system,  which  at  that  time  was  fitted  to  cope 
with  them,  has  undergone  a  process  of  evolution. 
So  have  the  scholars,  as  well  as  the  ideals  and  the 
methods.  If  such  an  anachronism  as  the  big  boy  of 
old  were  to  enter  a  graded  grammar  school  today 
he  would  throw  the  entire  machinery  out  of  tune, 
though  undoubtedly  he  would  be  cared  for  and 
taught. 

Miss  Tibbets  at  first  found  a  delight  in  her  new 
pupils.  They  were  industrious  and  eager  to  learn 
beyond  any  previous  experience  of  hers.  In  short 
they  were  her  disciples.  The  progress  made  by  the 
fully  matured  brain  under  these  circumstances  com- 
pletely overshadowed  that  of  even  the  brightest  of 
the  normal,  fun  loving  children.  In  that  side  of 
their  nature  these  aliens  reflected  her  own  struggles 
and  successes,  and  so  found  a  ready  sympathy.  And 
there  was  her  satisfaction,  too,  for  her  professional 
side  was  flattered  by  their  proficiency.  So  it  was 
that  with  growing  mutual  esteem  they  learned  and 
taught. 

But  all  males  are  vicious,  except  perhaps  at  those 
two  extremes  of  life  when  weakness  makes  a  neces- 

(70) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

sity  of  virtue.  Of  the  viciousness  of  the  small  boy 
Miss  Tibbetts  had  had  much  experience,  theoreti- 
cally. She  had  encountered  this  trait  frequently  un- 
der many  names  in  her  text  books  and  in  her  lectures. 
If  she  could  not  always  subdue  it,  and  there  were 
tears  on  her  pillow  to  witness  occasional  failures, 
at  least  it  was  something  of  which  she  had  an  under- 
standing. If  she  couldn't  fathom  the  mental  process 
that  made  small  boys  fight,  and  fidget,  and  do  one 
naughty  thing  after  another,  she  did  accept  it  as  a 
fact  that  their  actions  followed  their  impulses  with- 
out a  conscious  break,  and  she  also  accepted  the  fact 
that  their  impulses  were  not  always  of  the  highest 
order. 

The  viciousness  of  the  big  boys  of  the  days  of  the 
pedagogues  she  would  have  learned  to  accept  in  much 
the  same  way,  had  it  come  into  her  life.  After  all, 
it's  a  long  cry  from  the  days  of  seigniory,  or  of  the 
Italian  nobles.  And  the  restraints  of  civilization, 
which  is  essentially  recognition  of  the  rights  of  the 
weaker,  have  so  permeated  the  human  race  that  the 
roughest  lumber-jack  or  unskilled  laborer  has  come 
within  its  influence  to  a  degree  that  would  astonish 
him  if  it  were  brought  to  his  notice. 

While  there  are  many  things  these  big  boys  would 
have  done  which  you  and  I,  with  greater  advantages, 
would  avoid,  yet  there  are  things  they  would  not  do; 
We  all  have  a  limit  beyond  which  we  will  not  trans- 
gress, a  limit  which  varies  far  more  with  epochs 
of  history  than  with  individual  consciences.  The 
big  boy  has  a  good  deal  of  the  small  boy  left  in  him, 

(71) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

and  a  good  deal  of  the  man  is  there,  and,  however 
high  or  low  his  standard  may  be,  he  is  almost  cer- 
tainly a  militant  idealist  Miss  Tibbetts  would  have 
handled  him  with  tact,  with  an  appeal  to  his  chivalry, 
with  an  instinctive  recognition  of  his  weaknesses  and 
of  his  strength,  and  she  would  have  been  successful 
because  he  represented  the  same  state  of  race  de- 
velopment that  she  herself  did. 

Hogo  and  Watsa  and  Nanga  came  to  the  Ro- 
sario  school  with  traditions  older  by  centuries  than 
those  of  the  other  scholars.  They  came  to  learn, 
and  were  prepared  to  and  did  accept  countless  of  the 
western  ways  because  of  their  wish  to  become  Amer- 
icanized. But  without  disloyalty  to  their  old  ideals. 
Up  to  a  certain  point  the  workings  of  the  human 
mind  are  mechanical  and  can  no  more  be  changed 
than  the  color  of  the  skin,  the  slant  of  the  eyes,  or 
the  shape  of  the  skull. 

Little  Miss  Tibbetts'  first  troubles  came  when  her 
three  Asiatics  tried  to  take  part  in  the  school  games. 
They  knew  nothing  of  baseball,  which,  at  the  time, 
was  undergoing  one  of  its  popular  revivals  among 
the  small  boys  of  Rosario.  But  Hogo's  older 
brother,  who  was  working  on  the  old  Warner  place, 
had  once  been  a  professional  baseball  player.  He 
explained  the  sport  to  his  three  compatriots  and 
practiced  throwing,  catching  and  batting  with  them, 
until  one  day  they  presented  themselves  ready  to 
join  in  the  great  national  game.  Their  desire  for 
knowledge  went  far  beyond  books,  it  included  every 
phase  of  American  life. 

(72) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

"Red,"  alias  Ralph  Watson,  and  "Slats,"  whose 
fond  parents  had  expected  him  to  be  called  Stephen 
Ruggles,  were  the  two  who  usually  chose  sides.  With 
officious  ceremonies  Red  would  toss  a  bat  to  Slats, 
who  with  his  right  hand  would  catch  it  somewhere 
near  the  centre.  Then  Red's  little  fist  would  close 
just  above  the  other's,  which  in  turn  would  slip  above 
his.  And  so  on,  the  winner  being  the  one  who  last 
held  the  bat  securely  enough  to  swing  it  over  his 
head.  After  that  the  choosing  of  sides  began.  In 
their  imagination  the  game  was  not  played  between 
teams  of  half  a  dozen  small  boys  to  a  side,  on  an  old 
school  lot,  while  waiting  for  the  bell  to  ring.  On 
the  contrary  the  players  were  all  grown  men  and 
famous  experts,  a  vast  concourse  of  people  watched 
them,  people  who  expected  and  received  all  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  due  to  the  king  of  sports. 
The  little  dreamers  did  the  best  they  could,  where 
the  proper  swagger  was  more  important  than  the 
proper  play. 

Miss  Tibbetts  was  pleased  one  morning  to  find 
Hogo  and  his  friends  playing  in  this  game.  She 
was  surprised  the  next  day  that  the  children  had 
given  up  their  baseball  and  were  playing  prisoner's 
base.  She  called  Red  into  the  school  house  to  find 
out  what  lay  behind  it  all.  But  the  interview  was  not 
very  satisfactory.  The  facts  were  that  the  Japanese 
had  been  as  serious  about  the  game  as  about  every- 
thing else.  Red  would  never  have  admitted  that  he 
and  his  fellows  were  afraid  to  play  because  the  new- 
comers hit  too  hard  and  threw  too  fast,  and  he  never 

(73) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

could  have  explained  how  reality  had  shattered  the 
make-believe. 

Prisoner's  base,  or  at  least  the  California  variety, 
consists  of  a  number  of  players  divided  into  two 
sides.  Two  parallel  lines  some  twenty  yards  apart 
represent  the  bases.  And  rough  circles  drawn  in  the 
sand  are  prison  walls.  The  player  who  leaves  his 
base  becomes  the  prey  of  any  opposing  player  who 
has  left  his  own  subsequently.  If  captured,  a  pris- 
oner may  be  released  by  being  tagged  by  any  one  of 
his  own  team.  Of  course,  the  game  demands  an  um- 
pire. And  equally,  of  course,  in  a  small  school  it  is 
habitually  played  without  one. 

The  first  day  after  baseball  was  abandoned  the 
Japanese  watched  the  children,  the  second  day  they 
said  they  would  play.  Hogo  and  Nanga  were  ac- 
cepted, Watsa  was  in  the  schoolhouse  studying.  As 
had  happened  before,  the  small  tots  were  outclassed. 
The  two  big  boys,  though  on  opposite  sides,  made 
no  effort  to  catch  each  other,  but  filled  the  prison 
with  the  little  children,  who  had  no  chance  against 
them. 

Red  Watson  decided  that  since  Nanga  would  not 
catch  Hogo,  he  must  do  so  himself.  So  he  made  it 
a  point  to  always  leave  his  base  just  after  Hogo 
came  out,  and  always  to  run  home  as  soon  as  Hogo 
did.  Using  Nanga  for  a  stalking  horse,  Red  waited 
his  opportunity,  and  when  it  came  he  darted  out  and 
tagged  Hogo  fairly  and  squarely.  What  a  shout 
went  up,  what  clapping  of  hands  and  dancing!  How 
they  did  tease  Hogo.     Ridicule  is  the  one  thing  that 

(74) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

the  Japanese  cannot  endure.  So  he  lied,  claiming 
and  insisting  that  he  had  left  the  base  after  Red, 
and  refusing  point  blank  to  go  to  prison.  Nanga 
sustained  him,  whereupon  the  game  broke  up  in  a 
fierce  quarrel. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  has  been  taught  that  truth  is  a 
virtue,  the  Oriental  that  it  is  a  folly.  Ralph  Wat- 
son, half  sobbing  with  anger,  half  blind  with  hatred, 
revolving  in  his  mind  wild  schemes  for  getting  even, 
could  not  have  been  persuaded  that  he  was  not  the 
victim  of  an  injustice.  Child-like,  he  exaggerated 
the  importance  of  it  all.  But  the  principle  involved1 
was  as  firm  in  his  twelve-year-old  mind  as  a  thousand 
years  of  breeding  and  thinking  and  living  could  plant 
it.  A  little  self-conscious,  perhaps,  but  behind  him 
twice  several  thousand  years  to  justify  himself, 
Hogo  could  not  any  more  easily  understand  Red's 
feelings  than  Red  could  justify  Hogo's  actions. 

Miss  Tibbetts  smoothed  over  the  matter.  She 
liked  Red,  admired  him  for  his  sturdy  courage,  his 
devotion  to  principle,  and  his  native  honesty.  More- 
over, he  was  right.  Her  every  instinct  told  her  that 
lying  was  wrong.  Neither  her  breeding  nor  her 
profession  made  it  possible  for  her  to  admit  of  any 
other  philosophy,  or  to  see  that  the  whole  trouble 
was  really  the  contact  of  two  world-old  and  irrecon- 
cilable developments.  She  persuaded  the  Japanese 
to  give  up  trying  to  take  part  in  the  school  games, 
and  coaxed  Red  and  his  associates  to  resume  friendly 
relations. 

So  Watson  and  Nanga  once  more  took  up  their 
(75) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

dicker  for  the  wild  pigeon  eggs.  Red  had  been  an 
ardent  collector  for  years.  His  eggs  were  properly 
drilled  and  carefully  blown.  His  orderly  care  of 
them  was  in  such  contrast  to  his  regular  habits  that 
it  was  at  once  his  mother's  pride  and  her  despair. 
For  Red  was  a  very  human  youngster.  Nanga  had 
a  pair  of  wild  pigeon  eggs,  something  which  young 
Watson  had  long  wanted,  as  almost  the  only  native 
bird  not  on  his  list.  He  had  prepared  these  eggs  for 
Nanga,  then  offered  their  equivalent  and  more  from 
his  trading  stock.  Nanga  was  not  a  collector,  so 
Red  had  to  unearth  some  of  his  other  treasures. 
Proposals  and  counter  offers  followed,  negotiations 
worthy  of  a  larger  business  deal.  When  at  last  an 
agreement  was  reached,  Red  gave  up  his  pocket 
knife,  seven  glass  marbles  and  his  agate;  his  cher- 
ished agate  that  had  won  for  him  the  reputation  of 
being  the  school's  best  player.  Nanga  put  all  these 
things  in  his  pocket  and  promised  to  bring  the  eggs 
with  him  in  the  morning. 

But  he  did  not  do  so.  He  gave  back  the  seven 
marbles  and  the  knife  and  told  how  he  had  lost 
the  agate  before  he  had  reached  home.  There  he 
had  found  a  letter  offering  him  money,  real  money, 
for  those  pigeon  eggs,  and  so,  of  course,  he  had  sold 
them. 

Red  went  at  once  to  Miss  Tibbetts,  but  what  could 
she  do  ?  He  told  his  father  about  it  in  the  evening. 
Mr.  Watson  could  not  think  of  anything  better  to 
advise  his  son  than  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
Nanga  and  his  friends.     And  this  advice  Red  fol- 

(76) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

lowed,  literally  and  vindictively.  He  was  so  popular 
among  his  fellows,  and  made  such  a  strong  appeal 
when  he  preached  his  feud,  that  not  a  boy  over  ten 
would  speak  to  one  of  those  Japanese  or  recognize 
his  existence. 

Red  thoroughly  enjoyed  it,  and  felt  repaid  for  the 
lost  stone.  Nanga  was  hurt.  He  could  not  reason 
against  his  own  traditions,  nor  could  his  fellow 
countrymen  help  him  when  he  laid  his  troubles  be- 
fore them.  Their  theory  of  life  did  not  include  the 
western  doctrine  that  a  promise  once  given  must 
be  carried  out,  a  contract  once  entered  into  must 
be  fulfilled.  If  this  ideal  were  universally  lived  up 
to  in  the  western  world  the  Japanese  would  have  ac- 
cepted it.  But  the  distinction  between  an  ideal  that 
is  so  disregarded  and  the  more  material  scheme  of 
life  which  does  not  include  such  an  ideal  is  a  very  fine 
one.  Too  much  so,  in  fact,  for  Nanga  and  his 
friends,  who  could  see  in  the  incident  itself  and  in 
its  consequences  nothing  but  race  prejudice.  And 
being  proud  and  sensitive  they  resented  it,  and  more 
bitterly  because  of  their  impotence. 

Miss  Tibbetts  did  not  try  to  smooth  over  this 
disagreement.  She  remained  friendly  with  both 
sides,  while  recognizing  their  hostility  to  each  other. 
The  school  discipline  she  succeeded  in  maintaining 
to  the  extent  that  there  were  no  outbreaks  during 
study  or  recitation  hours.  Her  one  concession  was 
to  remove  the  Japanese  to  the  extreme  rear,  not  far 
from  the  larger  girls. 

Then  came  the  trouble  that  involved  the  parents, 
(77) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

the  trustees,  and  the  whole  valley.  Again  it  was  not 
a  question  of  wrong  on  one  side  or  of  right  on  the 
other.  Logic  was  entirely  on  the  side  of  the  Jap- 
anese, race  prejudice  and  instinct  against  them. 

Here  were  three  boys,  not  especially  congenial 
among  themselves.  They  were  cut  off  from  inter- 
course with  the  other  boys  of  the  school  through  a 
series  of  incidents  regarding  which  they  held  them- 
selves blameless.  Miss  Tibbetts  was  kind  to  them, 
but  she  was  their  teacher  and  could  not  meet  them 
on  any  other  basis.  The  boys'  own  position  in  life 
was  on  a  parity  with  the  other  people  in  this  valley, 
where  social  caste  was  unknown.  There  were  peo- 
ple in  Rosario,  people  like  the  Packhards  and  the 
Coulters,  who  might  be  above  recognizing  them.  On 
the  other  hand,  knowing  as  they  did  their  own  posi- 
tions at  home,  and  the  respect  generally  accorded  to 
their  families,  they  considered  themselves  at  least 
the  equals  of  nearly  all  the  Rosarians  and  the  supe- 
riors of  most  of  them.  And  as  to  race,  why,  they 
were  proud  of  the  blood  that  was  in  them.  They 
had  always  been  taught  in  their  isolation  that  the 
Japanese  were  by  far  the  greatest  of  humanity,  and 
they  could  point  to  many  facts  to  prove  it.  They 
did  not  believe  that  the  question  of  blood  superiority 
was  involved  at  all,  or  if  it  were  it  was  all  in  their 
favor. 

They  knew  that  these  Americans  held  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  womankind  very  different  from  their  own. 
They  had  no  sympathy  with  these  strange  notions; 
reason  and  hygiene  were  both  against  them.    Never- 

(78) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

theless,  they  understood  them  perfectly  and  willingly 
accepted  them.  On  that  statement  of  facts,  craving 
society  and  companionship,  it  was  only  natural  that 
they  should  mix  a  little  with  the  older  girls  in  the 
school,  and  endeavor  in  a  pleasant  way  to  become 
acquainted  with  them. 

But  when  little  Jennie  Graham  came  in  one  eve- 
ning and  told  incidentally  how  Watsa  had  walked 
home  with  her,  carrying  her  books,  her  parents  froze 
stiff  in  their  chairs.  She  prattled  on  about  how  sur- 
prisingly nice  Watsa  was;  she  had  never  believed 
that  those  Japanese  were  nice  at  all,  from  what  the 
other  boys  had  told  her.  Fulton  Graham  caught  his 
wife's  eye;  nothing  was  said  to  Jennie  at  the  time, 
but  as  soon  as  she  left  the  room  the  mother's  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

We  all  flatter  ourselves  that  we  are  children  of 
reason,  but  let  reason  and  instinct  conflict!  Perhaps 
a  keen  logician  could  prove  to  Sarah  Graham  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  Watsa  should  not  be  atten- 
tive to  her  daughter,  just  as  children  are  to  each 
other.  Perhaps  he  might  prove  it,  but  never  could 
he  persuade  her  to  let  Jennie  continue  the  acquaint- 
ance. Her  first  words  showed  how  her  mother's 
mind  went  to  the  kernel  of  the  situation. 

"Fulton,  what  is  the  quickest  way  to  stop  this?" 

"I  think  we  had  best  go  to  Miss  Tibbetts  and  talk 
it  over  with  her." 

They  found  the  teacher  at  the  home  of  the  Scotts, 
where  she  boarded.  Mrs.  Scott  answered  their  ring, 
and  ushered  them  into  the  sitting  room.     Donald 

(79) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

was  smoking  his  old  pipe  and  reading  the  paper. 
Six  days  a  week,  from  sun  up  till  dark,  he  worked, 
and  worked  hard.  In  fact,  everything  he  did,  he 
did  hard.  Still  he  found  time  to  keep  up  with  what 
went  on  in  the  world,  to  be  the  leading  supporter  of 
his  church,  and  to  serve  as  chairman  of  the  school 
trustees.  Miss  Tibbetts  rose  from  the  papers  she 
was  marking,  to  join  Scott  in  shaking  hands  with 
the  Grahams  and  finding  seats  for  them. 

"We've  come  to  see  you  about  Jennie,"  said  Gra- 
ham. "We  learned  tonight  that  one  of  your  Jap- 
anese students  has  become  acquainted  with  her,  and 
we  want  it  stopped." 

"Why,  what  has  he  done?  I'm  so  sorry,  for  I 
was  just  thinking  how  nice  it  was  for  those  poor  boys 
to  know  some  of  the  older  girls." 

"Then  you're  to  blame  for  this,"  broke  in  Bessie. 

"To  blame?  Tell  me  what  is  the  trouble?"  Miss 
Tibbetts  asked. 

"The  trouble?"  Bessie  Graham  could  hardly  con- 
tain herself.  "Why,  I  told  you,  Watsa  as  you  call 
him,  walked  home  with  Jennie,  and  has  tried  to  make 
friends  with  her  at  school." 

"Do  you  object  to  that?" 

Fulton  Graham  was  on  his  feet,  but  Donald  Scott 
forestalled  him,  and  by  sheer  quiet  strength  took 
control  of  the  situation. 

"Everybody  is  right,  so  let's  not  quarrel.  Dorothy 
is  the  schoolteacher.  You  must  see  that  all  who 
go  to  her  school  are  equals  there,  that  it  would  be 
wrong  for  her  to  treat  them  any  other  way.     She 

(80) 


THE  ROSARIO  SCHOOL 

has  told  me  a  great  many  times  of  her  troubles  with 
the  Japanese,  and  I  think  that  she  deserves  the  high- 
est praise  for  her  efforts  to  help  them.  You  Gra- 
hams are  right,  of  course.  No  one  will  question  a 
parent's  privilege  to  choose  the  daughter's  asso- 
ciates. As  to  telling  you  why  they  object,  Dorothy, 
I  don't  believe  they  can.  But  I  understand,  and  so 
would  you,  if  you  were  thinking  entirely  of  Jennie, 
and  not  of  the  school  as  a  whole." 

"Mrs.  Graham,  I  can't  go  to  those  boys  and  tell 
them  they  must  not  speak  to  any  of  the  girls,  I  just 
cannot  do  it." 

"You'll  have  to  stop  it  some  way,  Dorothy,"  said 
Mrs.  Scott.  "All  the  mothers  will  feel  the  same 
way.  I'm  enough  of  a  mother  to  you  to  know  how 
I'd  feel  if  Watsa  should  bring  you  home.  Can't  you 
attend  to  this  for  her,  Donald?  It's  really  some- 
thing for  the  trustees  to  handle." 

"I've  given  the  matter  a  good  deal  of  thought," 
said  Donald.  "I'll  call  a  special  meeting  of  the 
board.  If  the  others  agree,  which  I'm  sure  they 
will,  we'll  pass  a  resolution  excluding  Japanese  from 
the  school.  I  dislike  doing  this  for  many  reasons. 
But  we  had  one  of  the  best  schools  in  the  country 
before  these  Japs  came.  It's  wholly  against  our 
feelings  and  our  interests  that  they  are  forced  upon 
us  and  I  see  no  sense  or  justice  in  it.  If  this  is  un- 
fair to  them  I'm  sorry.  Under  the  circumstances 
nothing  better  can  be  done." 


(81) 


CHAPTER  VII 

Robert  Hollington's  Ideals 

TTOLLINGTON  was  becoming  very  fond  of 
-*"*■  shooting.  He  had  taken  to  the  sport  at  first 
because  it  offered  the  exercise  and  relaxation  which 
he  needed.  Clem  Harding  was  guide  and  teacher 
until  the  doctor  became  proficient.  At  least  once 
every  week  during  the  season  these  two  drove  to  the 
foothills  for  quail,  to  the  open  fields  for  dove,  or  to 
the  lake  if  they  were  out  for  duck.  In  the  summer 
they  found  rabbits  among  the  cactus,  or  bass  in  the 
reservoir.  And  in  the  spring  they  often  spent  a  night 
camping  in  the  mountains,  trapping  or  studying  bird 
life,  or  just  being  out  of  doors  for  its  own  sake. 
These  expeditions  were  subject  to  many  interrup- 
tions and  cancellations,  for  a  doctor's  call  to  duty  is 
paramount.  Nevertheless,  they  went  on  over  a  long 
period  of  time  with  somewhat  surprising  regularity. 
And  this  because  the  doctor,  having  decided  that  his 
health  required  them,  had  endowed  them  with  the 
same  importance  as  any  other  work. 

Quail  is  king  in  southern  California.  Given  cover 
not  quite  waist  high  and  birds  that  know  what  shoot- 
ing means,  the  man  who  brings  home  a  fair  bag  has 
outguessed  a  little  clever  brain  controlling  a  big 
fighting  heart.  "The  smartest  and  gamiest  birds 
alive,"  Clem  Harding  used  to  say.  Their  home  is 
in  the  sage  and  the  cactus,  on  canon  side  and  on 

(82) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

mesa.  From  the  normally  dry,  sand-covered  river 
beds  the  walls  rise  to  the  level  of  the  table-land,  the 
land  that  was  there  aeons  ago,  before  the  water  had 
cut  the  immense  furrows.  On  one  side,  perhaps  the 
rise  is  abrupt,  on  the  other,  the  shifting  of  the  river 
bed  may  have  left  a  gradual  slope  even  miles  in 
width.  The  quail  is  not  fond  of  flying.  So  it's  on 
the  gentle  slopes,  on  those  which  he  can  travel  afoot, 
that  he  makes  his  home.  He  likes  the  hills,  too, 
where  the  yellow  grass  is  soft  underfoot,  where  he 
can  hide  in  the  chapparal,  or  rest  in  the  sumach,  or 
seek  refuge  in  the  chollas.  He  likes  to  hunt  his 
water  holes  early  in  the  morning,  to  work  his  way 
upwards  leisurely,  scratching  and  feeding  on  the 
way,  to  spend  the  warm  hours  in  the  cooling  breeze 
near  the  top. 

Hollington  found  several  qualities  were  necessary 
to  a  successful  quail  hunter.  First  of  all  was  ability 
to  find  the  birds.  Over  wide  areas  of  sage  hills,  ap- 
parently all  more  or  less  alike,  the  novice  might 
stumble  unsuccessfully  for  hours,  might  not  see  a 
bird  all  day.  And  once  the  flock  was  flushed  and  a 
few  shots  fired  into  it,  it  would  be  lost  to  a  beginner. 
But  the  old  quail  hunter  would  follow  so  fast  on  the 
heels  of  the  frightened  birds,  would  mark  so  care- 
fully when  they  lit,  and  would  know  so  well  what 
they  were  going  to  do,  that  he  would  have  them  at 
his  mercy,  often  for  an  hour  or  more  at  a  time. 

Dr.  Hollington  learned  that  he  must  pick  indi- 
vidual birds  when  the  barren  hillside,  with  an  angry, 
vicious,  nerve-racking  burr,  began  to  vomit  little  blue 

(83) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

streaks.  He  learned  to  be  steady  when  a  single 
bird  noisily  broke  cover  at  his  very  feet;  he  learned 
to  lead  his  target  properly,  to  shoot  to  kill  the  quail, 
not  merely  to  drop  it,  and  above  all  to  mark  care- 
fully where  it  fell  so  that  he  could  find  it.  He  be- 
came familiar  with  the  marvelous  hiding  qualities 
of  his  quarry,  whether  wounded  or  not,  of  the  cour- 
age and  patience  with  which  it  could  lie  still  until  he 
almost  stepped  on  it,  often  to  make  a  dash  for  safety 
just  after  he  had  passed.  He  learned  the  intimate 
habits  of  the  bird,  why  for  instance  it  liked  to  keep 
a  ditch  between  itself  and  him,  why  it  maneuvered 
to  prevent  him  from  getting  up  wind,  why  it  was 
that  it  usually  ran  up  the  hills  and  flew  down  them. 
Clem  Harding  was  a  master  of  the  more  obscure 
traits  of  the  quail.  He  taught  Hollington  to  read 
meaning  into  tracks  and  scratches  on  the  hillside, 
and  even  to  imitate  the  penetrating  whistle.  Or  if 
they  found  signs  about  a  water  hole,  the  old  west- 
erner taught  him  how  to  tell  the  age  of  those  signs, 
and  the  probable  direction  which  the  birds  had 
taken. 

So  passed  many  a  day.  Hollington,  thoroughly 
interested,  absorbed  the  hunter's  lore.  There  was 
more  than  sport  and  recreation  to  be  had  out  of  this, 
more  than  a  growing  skill  and  an  increasing  bag. 
There  was  contact  with  the  spirit  of  the  great  south- 
west. It  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that  even  by  in- 
timate association  such  as  this  could  a  man  of  Clem 
Harding's  type  affect  a  character  such  as  Holling- 
ton's.    But  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  and  as  a  matter 

(84) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

of  fact  it  really  did  happen  that  the  easterner  grew 
better  to  understand  the  western  point  of  view,  to 
sympathize  with  it,  and  to  admire  it. 

Except  for  these  outdoor  sports,  and  except  too 
for  frequent  visits  to  the  Coulters,  Hollington's  time 
was  taken  up  by  his  profession.  Of  course,  he  was  a 
social  favorite  in  a  general  way.  But  that  phase  of 
life  was  of  minor  importance  in  this  valley  of  farm- 
ers. A  dance  once  a  month,  perhaps,  and  an  invita- 
tion to  supper  about  as  often,  was  the  limit  of  their 
gaiety.  There  was  one  other  recreation  in  which 
Hollington  did  indulge  himself,  and  that  was  his  as- 
sociation with  the  new  Japanese  settlers. 

They  first  won  his  doctor's  heart  by  fortitude 
when  in  pain,  and  by  their  care  in  following  instruc- 
tions. They  were  model  patients,  and  flattering  ones 
as  well.  When  they  found  that  he  alone  of  all  the 
white  men  in  the  valley  took  an  interest  in  them,  and 
that  they  could  bring  their  troubles  to  him,  they  dis- 
played affection  and  appreciation. 

Saishoto  took  the  lead  in  this.  He  had  been  in 
the  ambulance  corps  with  the  forces  that  drove  the 
Germans  out  of  China.  He  was  an  observant  per- 
son, with  an  insatiable  curiosity  to  understand  the 
reasons  that  lay  back  of  what  he  saw.  His  com- 
mand of  English  was  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  make 
himself  understood,  so  an  intimacy  began,  based  on 
discussions  of  the  Japanese  military  methods  of  han- 
dling medical  problems. 

From  there  it  was  not  long  before  Saishoto  spoke 
of  his  home  in  Japan,  of  the  many  pretty  little  cus- 

(85) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

toms  of  his  people,  of  the  intimate  details  of  their 
lives.  Told  sympathetically  and  listened  to  in  the 
same  way,  these  were  wonderfully  interesting 
stories. 

There  were  the  sisters,  Satsuko  and  Kotingo, 
daughters  of  a  small  village  merchant.  Satsuko  was 
the  elder,  a  shy,  timid  little  thing.  Her  marriage  to 
Saishoto  had  been  arranged  between  her  father  and 
his  at  a  series  of  meetings  in  the  mountains  back  of 
Nakimura.  Saishoto  told  Hollington  of  the  nego- 
tiations, of  the  outcome  when  the  long  drawn  out 
subtleties  of  Oriental  trading  had  at  last  been  satis- 
fied. Saishoto  read  a  sweet  little  letter  from  Sat- 
suko, telling  him  just  when  she  was  coming  down  to 
the  coast  and  all  her  plans.  Then  came  the  word 
that  she  had  reached  Tokio,  and  had  been  so  fright- 
ened that  she  had  gone  straight  back  to  her  home, 
from  which  neither  entreaties  nor  threats  could 
make  her  stir  again. 

It  was  a  hard  blow  to  Saishoto.  Hollington 
cheered  him  as  best  he  could,  devoting  more  time  to 
the  task  than  he  could  really  afford.  He  was  sorry 
for  this  poor  lonely  boy,  thrown  among  unsym- 
pathetic countrymen  and  hostile  strangers.  In  no 
way  was  any  blame  to  be  attached  to  him  for  condi- 
tions in  Rosario.  When  Saishoto  left  the  army  he 
had  been  ordered  to  emigrate  and  to  report  to 
Hanba  in  San  Diego.  The  reasons  for  such  orders 
were  not  imparted  to  him.  His  discipline  and  his 
patriotism  had  been  so  highly  developed  that  he 
obeyed  these  instructions  without  question,  without 

(86) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

ever  knowing  or  really  trying  to  learn  from  what 
source  they  had  emanated.  So  when  Hanba  told 
him  to  proceed  to  Eden  Valley,  and  to  take  charge 
of  the  work  on  the  Kraemer  place,  he  did  so  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Perhaps  it  was  by  accident,  per- 
haps through  design,  that  he  was  there  thrown  in 
with  men  from  Nagasaki.  In  either  event,  it  was 
not  long  before  Hollington  was  the  best  if  not  the 
only  friend  Saishoto  had  in  this  foreign  land  to 
which  he  had  come. 

There  were  others,  too,  who  turned  to  Holling- 
ton. It  was  he  who  explained  the  intricacies  of  the' 
water  distribution,  and  compelled  the  yellow  men 
to  shut  down  when  their  allotment  was  exhausted. 
It  was  he  to  whom  a  merchant  would  apply  when  a 
bill  was  disputed,  or  a  tax  collector  when  some 
charge  could  not  or  would  not  be  understood,  or  a 
tree  inspector  who  was  authorized  to  compel  every- 
one to  join  in  community  spraying. 

It  was  an  anomaly,  a  man  with  such  a  bringing 
up  as  Hollington  had  had,  doing  work  of  this  kind. 
He  would  have  rebelled  at  the  idea  had  it  ever  been 
presented  to  him  in  its  entity.  But  the  situation  had 
evolved  easily  and  naturally  from  those  two  never 
to  be  forgotten  days  spent  with  Dr.  Ailing. 

One  of  the  first  experiences  that  came  as  a  result 
of  the  task  Hollington  had  assumed  was  his  en- 
counter with  Alfred  Carroll.  Hollington  had 
dropped  into  the  parsonage  for  a  little  chat  with 
Irving  Stanwood,  in  the  course  of  which  he  outlined 
to  the  minister  something  of  the  plans  he  had  made 

(87) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

for  himself.  The  latter  was  tolerant,  as  age  is  apt 
to  be  tolerant  of  the  enthusiasm  of  youth. 

"It's  all  very  pretty  and  does  you  credit.  I  once 
had  ambitions  myself  to  be  a  power  for  good.  I 
hope  you'll  never  find,  as  I  have  done,  that  the  world 
is  too  big,  too  settled  in  its  ways,  to  be  much  affected 
by  any  one  person.  It's  so  unresponsive  that  I 
gradually  began  to  drift  as  time  ran  on.  Now  I 
try  to  do  my  duty  as  it  comes  to  me,  no  matter  how 
hard  or  distasteful  it  may  be,  but  I  have  long  ceased 
to  emulate  Don  Quixote,  which  is  about  what  you 
are  doing." 

"I  wonder  if  Dr.  Ailing  did?" 

"Dr.  Ailing,  my  dear  sir,  was  an  exceptional  man, 
occupying  an  exceptional  position.  I  don't  believe 
that  he  ever  consciously  planned  his  life  to  be  what 
it  is ;  he,  too,  drifted.  I  wonder  what  he  would  have 
done  with  Carroll's  case." 

"Who's  Carroll?" 

"He  lives  in  a  little  shack  on  the  edge  of  the  set- 
tlement next  to  Baker.  I  always  had  supposed  he 
lived  alone.  I  had  been  in  to  see  him  several  times 
before  I  learned  that  there  were  two  small  children 
in  the  house,  a  boy  less  than  two  years  old  and  a 
girl  of  about  four.  As  far  as  anyone  knows  these 
babies  never  leave  the  house. 

"Carroll's  history  is  not  well  known.  His  wife 
left  him  a  few  months  ago,  ran  off  with  another 
man.  From  all  accounts  it  has  affected  Carroll's 
mind  to  a  certain  extent;  not  enough,  however,  to 
warrant  taking  the  children  from  him.     In  fact  it's 

(88) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

on  that  subject  that  he  is  morbid.  He  is  possessed 
of  a  horror  that  sometime  his  wife  will  steal  them. 
So  all  day  long,  while  he  is  working,  he  keeps  them 
under  lock  and  key.  At  other  times  he  is  with  them, 
but  never  out  of  doors. 

"He  came  into  Rosario  after  he  had  been  de- 
serted, slipped  in  quietly  without  a  word  to  anyone. 
He  has  not  made  a  single  friend  here,  for  he  rebuffs 
everyone  who  tries  to  speak  to  him.  My  own  effort 
to  remonstrate  with  him  was  too  unpleasant  for 
words.  It  happened  only  yesterday,  so  you  see  I'm 
rather  full  of  the  subject." 

"I'm  going  to  see  that  man  the  first  thing  tomor- 
row," said  Hollington. 

True  to  his  word,  he  went  over  to  Carroll's. 
There  he  found  a  man  plowing  a  hayfield.  The 
driver  stopped  his  team  at  Hollington's  approach. 

"Is  your  name  Carroll?"  asked  the  latter. 

"What  is  it  to  you?"  Suspicion  lurked  behind 
two  very  pale  blue  eyes,  hostility  showed  in  every 
feature  of  a  wan,  gaunt  face,  and  obstinacy  in  a 
mouth  whose  lips  were  so  small  as  to  be  shapeless. 

"I  want  to  see  your  children." 

"Well,  you  are  not  going  to.     Get  up !" 

"Wait  a  moment."  Something  was  there  that 
made  Carroll  stop  in  spite  of  himself.  "You've  no 
right  to  bring  them  up  the  way  you  are  doing " 

"Say,"  Carroll  climbed  down  from  his  seat  and 
walked  quite  close  to  Robert.  "Do  you  think  I  am 
going  to  let  a  kid  like  you,  a  dressed  up  dude  with 

(89) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

a  doll  face,  come  here  and  tell  me  what  to  do  ?  You 
run  on  back  to  the  road  and  go  home." 

uDo  you  know  what  will  happen  to  children  who 
are  brought  up  without  fresh  air  and  sunshine?" 

"I  don't  know  and  I " 

"I  do  know  because  I  have  seen.  You  have  never 
been  through  the  Ghetto  or  seen  the  baby  ward  of  a 
New  York  hospital.  I  have.  If  you  do  not  treat 
yours  differently " 

"They're  mine,  aren't  they?  You  can't  tell  me 
how  to  treat  them." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  I  can  and  will  tell  you  what 
will  happen  to  them.  They  will  not  develop,  either 
in  body  or  mind " 

"How  did  you  learn  so  much?" 

"By  ten  years  of  hard  work." 

"You  go  back  to  my  wife " 

"I've  never  even  heard  of  her." 

"Of  course  not.    Tell  her " 

"You're  afraid  you  will  lose  those  children,  and 
you're  very  apt  to  do  so,  but  not  in  the  way  you 
think.  I'm  a  doctor.  Robert  Hollington  is  my 
name.  I've  come  into  this  valley  to  live.  I  couldn't 
possibly  be  an  emissary  from  your  wife.  She  has 
nothing  to  offer  that  is  worth  as  much  to  me  as  my 
home  and  practice  here.  It  isn't  as  though  I  came 
from  out  of  town." 

"What  do  you  want?"  Hollington's  steady  insis- 
tence was  putting  Carroll  on  the  defensive. 

"I  want  to  see  your  children,  with  you,  find  out 
what  is  ahead  of  them,  and  tell  you;  that  is  all." 

(90) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

Carroll  gave  in,  and  the  upshot  of  another  half 
hour  of  argument  was  a  flagpole  by  Mrs.  McClure's 
home.  If  any  hostile  movement  was  suspected,  she 
was  to  pull  up  a  piece  of  red  bunting.  Every  morn- 
ing Carroll  took  the  two  youngsters  to  her,  every 
evening  he  brought  them  back.  All  day  long  he 
worked,  his  eyes  seldom  off  from  that  pole,  while 
two  children  played  in  the  sunshine,  taking  on  health 
and  color.  Mrs.  McClure  collected  a  few  dollars 
a  month,  but  her  real  reward  for  the  love  she  gave 
was  to  see  the  rosy  cheeks  and  the  happy,  smiling 
faces  of  her  wards. 

When  Hollington  reported  his  cuccess  to  Irving 
Stanwood,  the  latter  was  somewhat  astonished.  He 
threw  up  his  hands,  half  in  earnest: — 

"Young  man,  you're  lost.  With  so  signal  a  tri- 
umph behind  you,  you'll  be  neither  afraid  of  nor 
discouraged  by  anything.  I  kept  to  myself  what 
Carroll  said  to  me  when  I  tried  to  persuade  him  that 
he  was  doing  a  wicked  thing.  I  did  so  because  I 
thought  you  might  as  well  learn  now  as  any  time  that 
there  have  been  no  crusaders  for  seven  hundred 
years.  I  am  going  right  on  keeping  it  to  myself,  too, 
for  it  is  one  of  the  things  we  of  the  cloth  have  to 
listen  to,  but  do  not  like  to  remember." 

Hollington  found  people  usually  more  than  glad 
of  his  advice,  for  he  gave  it  sparingly,  only  when 
conditions  were  so  bad  that  he  knew  that  unless  they 
were  altered  there  were  apt  to  be  serious  conse- 
quences. For  instance,  there  was  Teresa  Martinez. 
She  had  married  at  seventeen  and  started  house- 

(91) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

keeping  in  the  old  adobe.  That  was  an  abandoned 
relic  of  the  days  before  the  Americans  came. 

Pablo  Martinez  was  not  a  good  provider,  so 
poor  little  Teresa  had  had  many  trials.  She  had 
once  been  pretty,  with  the  dark  coppery  beauty  of 
the  half  breed.  Ten  years  of  a  married  life  like 
hers,  and  eight  children,  had  taken  all  but  a  shadow 
of  her  good  looks. 

Hollington  had  answered  a  call  to  her  house.  He 
found  her  cleaning  away  the  noon  meal  which  had 
been  served  on  a  home-made  table  covered  with 
linoleum. 

Robert  watched  her  empty  the  dishes  upon  the 
table,  scraping  from  them  whatever  food  had  been 
left.  She  then  took  a  damp  cloth,  with  which  she 
wiped  the  top  of  the  table,  scraping  everything  upon 
the  earthen  floor.  The  last  step  in  this  remarkable 
housekeeping  was  to  open  the  door  to  a  flock  of 
chickens  that  rushed  in,  accompanied  by  three  or 
four  half  grown  pigs.  With  more  amusement  than 
he  could  well  conceal,  he  introduced  the  lady  of  the 
house  to  the  advantages  of  a  garbage  pail.  Then, 
because  there  was  sickness  in  the  house  he  preached 
cleanliness  to  a  willing  listener,  who  never  before 
had  known  that  such  a  thing  existed,  and  so  strong 
an  appeal  did  he  make  that  it  was  fully  a  week  be- 
fore this  daughter  of  the  south  relapsed  into  her 
easy-going  habits. 

Episodes  of  this  sort,  half  humorous  and  half 
pathetic,  while  rare,  were  sprinkled  through  his  days 

(92) 


ROBERT  HOLLINGTON'S  IDEALS 

with  far  greater  frequency  than  such  strenuous  con- 
tests as  the  one  with  Carroll. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  of  all  these  extra-medical 
experiences  was  the  climax  of  Saishoto's  marital 
plans.  One  day  the  doctor  was  in  his  office  alone, 
when  an  excited  native  of  Japan  was  ushered  in  to 
him.  Saishoto  was  so  bubbling  over  to  tell  the  good 
news  that  it  was  some  little  time  before  he  could 
make  himself  understood.  He  produced  a  picture, 
and  finally  succeeded  in  explaining  that  it  was  of 
Kotingo,  that  her  father  and  his  had  finally  reached 
an  agreement,  that  she  had  started  for  America,  and 
by  this  time  must  actually  be  on  the  broad  Pacific. 
He  was  to  meet  her  in  San  Francisco  in  less  than 
two  weeks,  where  they  were  to  be  married  before 
the  authorities  would  allow  her  to  land. 

The  doctor  was  greatly  interested.  There  were 
a  number  of  other  women  in  the  camps,  but  Kotingo 
was  the  first  of  the  famous  picture  brides.  His 
vanity  was  touched,  too,  when  he  learned  that  Sai- 
shoto had  brought  the  news  to  him  before  telling  it 
to  anyone,  even  to  his  compatriots. 

In  spite  of  his  relaxations  and  outside  interests, 
Robert's  life  consisted  principally  of  hard  work. 
About  this  time  he  felt  that  his  growing  practice 
required  the  purchase  of  a  small  automobile.  Its 
possession  merely  extended  the  area  over  which  he 
was  subject  to  call,  leaving  him  busier  than  ever. 
His  income  was  not  large,  for  money  was  scarce  in 
the  days  after  the  freeze.  But  he  was  happy  and 
contented  in  his  work,  in  his  play,  and  in  his  associa- 
tion with  Frances.  (  93  ) 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Gossip  and  Courtship 

MRS.  CLARK,  Mrs.  Bates,  and  Mrs.  Hastings 
sat  in  the  parlor  of  the  Clark  cottage.  In  their 
laps  were  bundles  of  sewing,  of  stockings  to  be 
darned  and  shirts  to  be  mended.  The  houses  of  the 
three  were  not  far  apart,  so  they  often  spent  an 
afternoon  in  each  other's  company. 

Their  conversation  was  largely  personal,  present 
company  carefully  excluded.  Since  their  minds  did 
not  run  to  such  things  as  crops,  or  baseball,  or  poli- 
tics, or  war,  or  like  matters  of  general  interest,  there 
was  not  much  else  they  could  discuss.  And  as  all 
were  inveterate  talkers,  they  gossiped;  what  else 
could  they  do  ? 

Mrs.  Bates  had  just  seen  Miss  Giddings.  Miss 
Giddings  had  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Outcalt  in 
San  Diego,  a  letter  that  told  among  other  things 
about  the  Kraemers  and  the  Warners.  Jeanette  was 
selling  ribbons  in  a  dry  goods  store,  working  long 
hours  for  six  dollars  a  week.  Her  father  was  con- 
ductor on  a  street  car,  her  brother  Deland  was  driv- 
ing a  delivery  wagon  for  a  wholesale  grocer  and 
studying  nights  to  fit  himself  for  a  position  in  the 
office.  They  had  a  little  bungalow  up  on  the  hill, 
with  the  Kraemers  still  as  neighbors.  As  a  tem- 
porary condition  the  situation  was  not  one  of  great 
hardship,  for  by  close  management  they  fed  and 

(94) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

clothed  and  sheltered  themselves.  But  if  sickness 
came,  or  any  misfortune !  And  Harry  Warner  was 
getting  along  in  years,  and  could  make  no  provision 
for  the  future. 

"I  always  did  know  that  Harry  was  too  weak," 
said  Mrs.  Clark.  "He's  so  nice  that  no  one  likes  to 
criticize  him,  and  yet  he's  really  to  blame  for  all  this 
trouble  we're  having.  How  do  you  think  he  could 
ever  have  believed  or  trusted  Butler?" 

"He's  paying  for  it  now,  he  and  that  poor  little 
wife,"  said  Mrs.  Bates.  "Yes,  and  all  the  rest  of  us, 
too.  Did  you  know  that  they  have  dropped  those 
Japanese  boys  from  the  school?" 

"Dorothy  Tibbetts  never  did  handle  them  right. 
She  made  friends  with  them,  and  actually  forced  the 
other  children  to  play  with  them,  just  as  long  as  she 
could." 

"She's  too  weak  to  be  a  teacher,"  said  Mrs.  Hast- 
ings. "Why,  do  you  remember  how  she  let  Sadie 
McClure  talk  back  to  her?  It  was  the  scandal  of 
the  valley.  If  any  child  had  acted  like  that  toward 
me — well,  she  would  not  have  done  so  twice." 

"It's  wonderful  how  Sadie  has  improved.  Once 
she  was  the  worst  little  devil  I've  ever  known.  Now 
she's  getting  marks  at  school  that  make  her  mother 
proud,  and  is  even  cultivating  manners — manners, 
think  of  that.  What  in  the  world  did  come  over  that 
child?" 

"She  filled  Mr.  Hastings'  rain  gauge  with  water," 
said  his  wife.  "He  never  will  forgive  her  for  it. 
That  same  day  she  stretched  a  string  across  the  walk 

(95) 


THE  INTERLOPERS    . 

and  twice  knocked  off  the  minister's  silk  hat,  threw  a 
heated  coin  to  some  gypsies,  and  sprained  her  ankle 
sliding  down  from  the  roof  of  the  shed." 

"Miss  Tibbetts  is  too  easy-going  with  everyone. 
When  I  was  a  child  teachers  knew  how  to  make  us 
do  the  things  we  should.  She  tries  to  be  such  a 
dainty  little  thing,  and  to  give  herself  such  an  air  of 
being  a  perfect  lady." 

"I  know  exactly  what  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Clark. 
"And  yet  I  can't  help  liking  the  girl.  She'll  probably 
marry  one  of  these  days  and  make  someone  a  good 
wife,  but  she'll  never  make  a  teacher." 

"Have  Evangeline  and  Arthur  told  when  they  are 
to  be  married?"  asked  Mrs.  Bates.  "Was'nt  his 
patience  marvelous  ?  There's  something  thoroughly 
nice  about  Arthur,  but  I  suppose  he'll  never  get  any- 
where in  the  world.  And  even  that  kindness  of  dis- 
position might  grow  colorless  if  you  had  it  around 
all  the  time." 

"By  the  way,"  she  continued,  "I  drove  across  the 
valley  yesterday  to  take  some  wine  jelly  to  little  Jen- 
nie Graham.  Do  you  know,  that  poor  child  is  really 
sick;  she  has  the  worst  case  of  grippe  I've  ever  seen. 
That  visit  to  her  and  the  drive  itself  depressed  me. 
I  just  can't  get  used  to  seeing  Rosario  without  its 
large  orange  trees.  Nothing  but  stumps  for  miles 
and  miles.  Have  you  noticed  how  nicely  ours  are 
being  covered  with  leaves?  They  look  so  much  like 
young  trees  that  I  often  find  myself  thinking  of  the 
days  when  I  first  came  here." 

"They  say,"  Mrs.  Hastings  remarked,  "that  Mr. 
(96) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

Graham  has  let  his  place  run  down  so  that  even  the 
weeds  have  not  been  plowed  in." 

"That's  partly  true.  When  I  was  there  yesterday 
he  was  trying  to  work  them  under.  That  black  adobe 
of  his  turned  hard  before  he  had  gone  over  half  the 
grove.  Clark  says  that  Mr.  Graham's  land  is  the 
most  difficult  in  Rosario  to  work.  It's  so  mushy  and 
sticky  after  a  rain  that  it  is  sometimes  a  week  before 
he  can  put  a  team  into  the  orchard.  Then  it  turns 
over  beautifully  for  three  or  fours  days;  after  that  it 
becomes  like  stone.  You  know  the  old  saying,  'three 
days  from  mud  to  brick.'  That  is  particularly  true 
with  Mr.  Graham." 

"What  are  they  doing  for  Jennie?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bates. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Hollington  is  taking  care  of  her;  he's 
splendid  with  children." 

"He's  a  remarkably  fine  doctor,"  added  Mrs. 
Hastings.  "We  have  been  unusually  fortunate,  both 
in  him  and  in  Dr.  Ailing.  It's  curious  how  much 
alike  they  are  under  the  surface,  those  two  men  who 
apparently  have  not  a  trait  in  common.  Think  what 
a  jollier  Ailing  was,  and  what  a  good  mixer." 

"In  his  heart  Hollington  is  just  as  much  interested 
in  us,"  Mrs.  Clark  was  perhaps  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  ability  to  take  a  real  interest  in  the  affairs 
of  others  is  the  basis  of  personal  popularity.  "No 
one  seems  to  like  him  the  less  because  he's  so  bash- 
ful." 

"I  used  to  imagine  that  he  thought  himself  a  little 
better  than  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Mrs.  Bates,  "and 

(97) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

that  he  wanted  to  show  it.    But  it  really  isn't  that  at 
all.     It's  only  that  he  was  brought  up  differently." 

"There's  something  about  him,"  said  Mrs.  Hast- 
ings, "that  makes  you  glad  to  have  him  around.  It 
may  be  his  face;  he  is  the  best  looking  man  I've  ever 
seen.  Or  it  may  be  his  clothes;  they're  so  neat  and, 
surely  seem  to  belong  to  him.  But  what  I  really 
think  it  is,  is  the  feeling  of  security  you  have  when 
you  are  with  him.  You  know  that  he  is  not  going 
to  do  or  say  anything  that  will  make  you  uncom- 
fortable." 

"What  I  like  best  about  him,"  continued  Mrs. 
Bates,  "is  that  he  is  such  an  easy  person  to  talk  to, 
for  he  always  understands  what  you  are  trying  to 
say.  If  he  doesn't  agree  with  you  he's  not  going  to 
pretend  to;  at  the  same  time  you  feel  that  he  has 
given  your  ideas  full  consideration." 

"He's  clever,"  was  Mrs.  Clark's  opinion.  "He 
came  here,  a  stranger  to  our  conditions,  and  yet  has 
been  able  to  show  us  where  they  might  be  improved. 
His  judgment  is  not  infallible,  of  course,  for  so  many 
of  our  problems  have  been  worked  out  in  bitter 
practice,  not  just  thought  out  theoretically.  He's 
always  willing  to  give  help,  too,  and  that  help  isn't 
limited  to  advice.  It  seems  as  though  every  day  or 
two  comes  to  me  some  new  story  of  his  kindhearted- 
ness." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  what  Clem  Harding  said  of 
him?"  asked  Mrs.  Bates. 

"No,  tell  us.  Every  once  in  a  while  Clem  says 
such  bright  things." 

(98) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

"I  wish  I  could  remember  the  words  he  used.  It 
was  to  the  effect  that  deep  down  under  all  this  sur- 
face we've  been  discussing  is  a  layer  of  bed  rock. 
You  can  reach  it  easily  enough;  it  apparently  rep- 
resents the  man's  real  character.  But  neither  steam 
drill  nor  dynamite  can  ever  as  much  as  make  a 
scratch.  I  think  that  what  he  was  trying  to  say  is 
that  once  Hollington's  real  principles  are  involved, 
no  amount  of  outside  pressure  can  make  him  yield  in 
the  slightest  particular,  let  alone  abandon  his  posi- 
tion.   And  I  believe  Clem  is  right." 

"What  an  awful  man  Dr.  Hollington  would  be 
had  he  no  imagination  or  sense  of  humor,"  added 
Mrs.  Bates. 

"Our  paragon  is  human  after  all,"  continued  Mrs. 
Clark.  "No  farmer's  boy  in  the  valley  ever  fell 
more  hopelessly  in  love." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?" 

"Frances  is  the  only  girl  he  was  ever  known  to 
take  anywhere,  the  only  one  he  seems  to  have  eyes 
for  at  a  party,  the  only  one — " 

"I  know,"  objected  Mrs.  Hastings,  "yet  when  you 
do  see  them  together  he  acts  so  impersonally  toward 
her,  treats  her  just  as  he  would  you  or  me — " 

"That's  the  English  influence  on  his  upbringing." 

"I  wonder,"  mused  Mrs.  Hastings,  "if  Frances 
will  string  him  along  as  she  has  done  with  Billy 
Evans." 

"It  must  be  immensely  flattering  to  her  to  have  at 
her  feet  two  such  men,  men  who  have  always  gone 
with  the  best  girls  in  the  large  cities." 

(99) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Two?     Why  leave  out  Edward  Winfield?" 

"The  man  of  mystery,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Bates. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know."  Mrs.  Clark  was  on  the  de- 
fensive. "He's  so  much  older,  and  such  an  invalid, 
that  I'd  never  have  thought  of  him  in  that  way." 

"Why,  it  is  written  all  over  him.  I  think  he's  the 
one  she  cares  for,  too,  though  of  course  they  could 
never  marry." 

"What  do  you  know  about  him?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Bates. 

"I've  fallen  into  the  habit  of  going  to  his  house 
every  Wednesday  morning,  to  take  him  something 
I've  cooked.  But  I  know  nothing  more  about  him 
than  you.  He's  never  said  a  word  about  himself,  his 
family,  or  where  he  came  from;  yet  he's  so  polite 
and  appreciative  that  what  was  at  first  an  act  of 
charity  has  become  a  source  of  pleasure." 

"Do  you  really  think  he  has  money?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bates. 

"He  seems  to  have;  he  keeps  a  Filipino  cook,  a 
male  nurse,  and  two  men  the  year  round  to  work  his 
farm.  I  suspect  that  he's  helping  more  than  one  of 
his  neighbors  through  these  hard  times." 

"Does  he  ever  leave  his  house?" 

"Never,  except  to  be  wheeled  to  that  little  obser- 
vatory he  has  had  built  on  the  knoll.  He  tells  me 
there  are  a  great  many  days  when  he  can't  even  do 
that." 

"Does  Frances  visit  him  often?" 

"No,  not  too  often.  It's  just  an  impression  that 
comes  to  me  when  I  see  them  together." 

(100) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

"I  think  you're  wrong,"  said  Mrs.  Clark.  "She's 
just  being  nice  to  him  in  the  same  way  that  you  are." 

"Perhaps.  I  can't  describe  what  I  saw,  but  I've 
my  opinion.  Goodness,  it's  after  four  o'clock.  I 
must  hurry  home  to  put  on  my  roast." 

"Do  you  think  she  really  saw  anything?"  Mrs. 
Bates  waited  until  Mrs.  Hastings  was  gone. 

"No.  Jealousy.  Winfield  is  probably  so  glad  to 
have  someone  around  who  is  not  trying  to  pry  into 
his  affairs  that  she  thinks  he's  in  love.  No,  if  it's 
anyone  with  Frances,  it's  Hollington." 

"Do  you  think  she's  going  to  marry  him?" 

"She'll  have  to  care  a  great  deal  for  him  to  do 
that.  There  are  plenty  of  persons  here  who  think 
it  would  be  a  fine  match  for  her.  Did  you  ever  stop 
to  consider  what  it  means  to  a  woman  to  be  the  wife 
of  a  general  practitioner?  Her  home  life  is  the 
maintaining  of  headquarters  for  a  man  who  drops  in 
occasionally,  irregularly,  who  never  can  be  counted 
upon,  and  who  seldom  stays  long.  She  is  robbed  of 
the  happiest  time  in  a  woman's  life,  the  early  mar- 
ried years  before  the  babies  come.  In  a  city  it's  not 
so  bad,  for  there's  always  someone  who  can  step  in 
and  make  it  frequently  possible  to  plan  things  with 
some  certainty.  I  have  heard  people  express  sym- 
pathy for  girls  who  married  men  in  the  navy;  the 
idea  is  more  or  less  the  same,  but  there's  no  compari- 
son in  degree.  I  don't  pretend  to  know  whether 
Frances  will  marry  Dr.  Hollington  or  not.  But 
there's  one  thing  of  which  you  may  be  sure,  and 
which  the  gossips  might  do  well  to  remember  when 

(101) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

they  accuse  her  of  setting  her  cap  for  him.  If  she 
marries  him  it  will  be  in  spite  of,  not  because  of,  his 
position  here." 

So  long  a  speech  was  unusual,  and  an  unusual 
silence  followed  it.  A  psychologist  could  scarcely 
have  followed  the  working  of  the  lady's  brain  dur- 
ing the  interval  preceding  her  next  question. 

"I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  man  a  Filipino  is.  Have 
I  ever  seen  one?" 

Then  the  conversation  drifted  on,  from  race  types 
to  the  merits  of  Chinamen  as  cooks.  It  hopelessly 
lost  tangible  sequence  among  the  domestic  difficulties 
and  disappointments  of  country  life. 

In  the  meantime,  the  two  principal  subjects  of 
discussion,  Frances  and  Robert,  had  stolen  a  rare 
hour  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  were  out  for  a  stroll. 
They  stopped  by  a  group  of  some  half  dozen  trees 
that  had  escaped  the  fury  of  the  freeze. 

"Let's  go  into  the  heart  of  the  clump."  Frances' 
sensitive  mouth  was  almost  wistful.  "We  might  live 
for  a  moment  in  the  memory  of  the  old  Eden  Val- 
ley." 

"Yes,  or  dream  of  the  one  to  come." 

"Why,  Robert,  your  voice  sounds  almost  senti- 
mental." She  laughed,  and  care-free  as  a  colt  ran 
among  the  trees. 

The  sun  was  slipping  toward  the  horizon,  throw- 
ing into  harmonious  contrast  the  golden  fruit  and 
the  rich  dark  leaves.  The  dying  sea-breeze,  stealing 
in  and  out  among  the  orange  blossoms,  turned  all 
outdoors  into  a  fairyland.     Happiness  took  posses- 

(102) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

sion  of  the  girl ;  then  came  seriousness  like  a  shadow 
over  the  sun. 

"Once  it  was  all  like  this,  Robert,  and  it  will  be 
so  again  if  everyone  does  his  part." 

"If  everyone  does  his  part  as  well  as  you  are 
doing — " 

"I?    What  help  do  I  give?" 

"The  men  in  Rosario  are  working  splendidly,  too 
hard  perhaps.  If  the  time  ever  comes,  through  over 
strain  or  some  new  misfortune,  when  they  become 
discouraged,  it  will  be  only  the  women  who  can  save 
us.  Your  part  is  to  furnish  incentive,  and  to  help 
the  men  through  the  dark  days.  Is  anyone  better 
able  to  do  that  than  you?" 

"So  the  part  you  assign  me,  in  case  of  trouble,  is 
to  put  on  a  fresh  frock  and  look  as  pretty  as  I  can." 

"No,  it's  to  do  just  as  you  are  doing  now.  I  have 
learned  many  things  about  you,  Frances,  that  you've 
never  told  me.  Do  you  know,  except  for  being  with 
you,  my  happiest  moments  come  when  I  hear  of  your 
influence,  of  how  a  talk  with  you,  or  a  visit  from 
you,  has  often  brought  much  needed  sunshine  into 
some  home.  You  may  not  realize  it,  but  you  are 
doing  more  than  any  dozen  men  to  put  Rosario  once 
more  on  its  feet." 

"I'm  disappointed  in  you,  Robert.  I  didn't  expect 
you  to  descend  to  flattery." 

"That's  not  flattery,  it's  the  truth.  I  am  seri- 
ous—" 

"Yes,  you  generally  are,"  and  again  the  old  be- 
witching smile  was  on  her  face. 

(103) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

The  pair  left  the  oasis.  Back  on  the  country  road, 
through  the  shadows  of  the  giant  gum  trees,  under 
the  drooping  peppers,  they  walked  in  silence.  Robert 
was  content  in  having  her  near.  Tired  from  a  stren- 
uous day,  this  was  a  rest.  And  since  he  would  not 
speak  of  the  matter  nearest  his  heart,  he  did  not 
feel  inclined  to  trivial  conversation. 

On  and  on  they  went.  She  appeared  to  be  wrapped 
in  the  glories  of  the  evening.  If  a  break  in  the  trees 
showed  a  vista  of  the  hills,  they  would  stop  and 
watch  together  the  play  of  the  delicate  purple  that 
threw  its  soft  glamour  over  sage-brush  and  rock. 
Or  perhaps  a  stray  cloud,  catching  the  rays  of  the 
sun  thrown  back  from  the  distant  ocean,  would  turn 
to  a  crimson  ingot,  an  augury  of  better  days. 

"I  hope  I  shall  never  have  to  leave  Rosario." 
Robert's  quiet  tone  was  surcharged  with  sincerity. 
"Where  else  is  there  such  contentment,  or  such  in- 
spiration for  a  life  work?  Do  you  ever  share  Ruth's 
wanderlust?" 

"Oh,  at  times.  Not  that  I  should  want  to  leave 
permanently,  but  every  woman  likes  to  see  people 
and  do  what  others  are  doing,  to  go  to  dances,  and 
dinners,  and  theatres,  to  be  one  of  the  crowd  on  the 
streets,  not  a  mere  spectator  from  the  windows.  Not 
just  now,  while  we  are  all  in  trouble.  But  some  time, 
after  I  have  done  my  bit,  as  they  say.  I  want  the 
knowledge  and  experience  that  comes  from  wider 
associations.    And  the  pleasures,  too,  I  suppose." 

Robert  made  no  reply.  His  slow,  accurate  imag- 
ination was  picturing  what  his  life  would  be  without 

(104) 


GOSSIP  AND  COURTSHIP 

her.  He  well  knew  that  with  her  would  go  the 
beauties  of  the  softest  days,  the  charm  of  the  tinted 
mountains,  the  fascination  of  the  most  wonderful 
skies.  He  knew  and  he  feared,  yet  he  hoped,  al- 
ways mutely,  that  this  great  love  of  his  would  en- 
velop her  also,  to  keep  her  forever  with  him,  as  she 
was  today.  And  on  her  part  as  she  watched  the 
shadows  come  and  go  on  that  impressionable  face, 
she,  too,  fell  to  picturing  the  future.  Somehow  the 
gay  life  of  her  day-dreams  didn't  seem  so  alluring  if 
Robert  were  to  be  away,  fighting  and  working  in 
Rosario. 

If  a  word  was  spoken  during  the  last  half  mile, 
neither  could  ever  recall  it.  Perfect  quiet,  happi- 
ness, the  serentity  of  the  lotus-eaters  was  theirs,  as 
they  yielded  to  the  age-old  fascination  which  was 
binding  them  together  against  all  the  world. 

But  all  ecstasy  must  end  when  the  realities  of  life 
intervene. 

"Goodbye,  Robert,"  she  was  saying,  as  he  held 
her  hand  and  looked  at  her  with  moist,  appealing 
eyes.  "Today  you  have  earned  an  answer,  and  you 
shall  have  it  very  soon." 


(105) 


CHAPTER  IX 

An  Angry  Father 

T"\  INNER  was  over.  A  full  moon  and  a  cool  still 
■*-" *  air  were  the  summons  to  come  out  into  the 
night.  The  mocking-bird  and  the  rabbit  answered, 
men  and  women  answered.  On  the  old  Warner 
place,  in  and  out  of  the  dying  garden,  the  moon- 
beams played;  around  the  unpainted  shed  they  fell, 
even  prying  into  the  stuffy,  crowded  house.  Sango 
looked  up  from  a  paper  he  was  reading.  He  saw  a 
bare  pear  tree  near  the  window,  saw  the  dew  glisten- 
ing on  the  grass,  saw  snow  and  a  cherry  tree  and 
old  Japan.  He  went  outside,  the  illusion  gone,  only 
to  be  replaced  with  a  wave  of  home-sickness.  He 
did  not  return,  but  walked  on  and  on.  Why? 
Ask  the  swallows  why  they  come  home  in  the  spring. 
Loneliness  does  not  greatly  affect  the  man  who 
prospects  by  himself,  the  fisherman  who  works  week 
after  week  with  no  companion.  It  comes  in  public 
places,  it  comes  when  no  one  else  is  alone.  It  came 
to  Sango  when  he  passed  the  white  men  and  women 
walking  arm  in  arm,  their  eyes,  their  thoughts  only 
for  each  other.  It  came  stronger  when  Arthur  Han- 
cock drove  by,  with  Miss  Evans  sitting  cosily  beside 
him.  It  came  irresistably  when  Charles  Essing  met 
Dorothy  Tibbetts,  quite  by  accident,  when  they 
stopped  to  speak  to  each  other,  when  they  walked  off 
together. 

(106) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

Ruth  came  out  of  the  shadows  on  an  errand 
bound. 

"Good  evening,  Sango,"  she  said  to  him  kindly. 

He  tried  to  say  something  to  her,  and  grew  em- 
barrassed. Both  his  manner  and  his  embarrassment 
frightened  the  girl.  As  she  hurried  to  pass  him,  he 
turned  quickly  toward  her.  Whereupon,  Ruth  lost 
her  head.  She  ran,  ran  as  never  before,  to  the  farm 
gates  and  into  the  house.  Sango  turned  after  her  a 
step  or  two,  surprised.  He  watched  the  fleeing  fig- 
ure for  a  moment  with  an  indifferenec  that  was 
mostly  assumed.  He  was  puzzled  and  a  little  wor- 
ried. The  strange  emotions  that  had  impelled  him 
were  dissipated  by  the  time  he  started  for  home. 

Ruth  flung  herself  into  her  mother's  arms,  weep- 
ing hysterically.  Mary  Coulters  comforted  her  as 
well  as  she  could,  trying  all  the  while  to  learn  the 
cause  of  the  trouble.  Sam  and  Frances  followed 
closely,  saying  nothing.  They  knew  that  this  was  a 
situation  to  be  handled  by  no  one  but  the  mother. 
The  first  intelligible  word  that  came  from  Ruth  was 
"Sango." 

The  child  had  not  been  touched;  her  appearance 
was  proof  of  that.  As  she  quieted  down  and  be- 
came coherent,  she  tried  to  explain  herself.  Sango 
had  frightened  her;  that  was  all  she  could  say.  Just 
what  he  had  done  or  said  she  didn't  pretend  to  re- 
member. 

"I  spoke  to  him,  and  the  way  he  acted  when  he 
answered  didn't  seem  right.  I  tried  to  pass  him, 
and  he  came  toward  me.     I  started  to  run  and  he 

(107) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

followed  me.  And  then — oh,  mother,  I  am  so  glad 
you  were  home !" 

By  this  time  Frances  was  helping  with  her  sister. 
Mary  said  she  was  going  to  put  Ruth  to  bed,  so  Sam 
put  his  arms  about  the  child  and  kissed  her  good- 
night. Left  alone,  he  paced  the  floor,  stopping  only 
to  take  his  revolver  from  the  desk  drawer.  After 
an  interval,  whether  of  minutes  or  hours  Sam  could 
not  have  told,  Frances  came  down  to  him. 

"How  is  she  now?"  he  asked. 

"Asleep,"  Frances  replied. 

"How  do  you  feel?  And  your  mother?  Do  you 
think  I  might  leave  the  house  for  a  while?" 

"As  far  as  we  are  concerned.  I  was  afraid  you 
might  have  left,  and  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  first. 
Father,  what  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Do?  Punish  Sango  and  make  Rosario  a  safe 
place  for  young  girls." 

"Yes,  I  know.    But  how?" 

"Never  mind  how,  Frances.  It'll  be  done,  you 
may  be  sure." 

"You  aren't  yourself  tonight,  father.  I've  seen 
you  do  many  things.  You've  always  planned  them 
deliberately,  with  calculating  forethought.  I  know 
you  are  going  to  plunge  in  blindly  now,  and  it  wor- 
ries me  more  than  I  can  tell.  Try  to  control  your- 
self before  you  begin." 

"Control  myself?  With  that  picture  burned  into 
my  brain,  that  picture  of  Ruth  crying  on  her  mother's 
breast!  Every  girl  has  to  learn  some  time  that  she 
is  a  woman.    The  beast  that  shocked  Ruth  into  that 

( 108 ) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

knowledge  has  to  settle  a  little  account  with  me,  and 
the  conditions  that  made  it  possible  are  to  be  brought 
to  an  end.  I'm  not  worrying  over  who  gets  hurt 
in  the  process." 

"I  am,  father,  for  it  might  be  you.  I'm  not  giving 
you  any  advice.  I'm  not  trying  to  persuade  you  to 
do  or  not  to  do  anything.  We've  always  prided  our- 
selves that  you  could  think  a  little  farther  ahead  than 
anyone  else;  all  I'm  asking  you  is  to  try  to  do  that 
now.  Take  this  kiss  with  you,  and  remember  that 
you  must  be  careful  for  our  sakes,  too." 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Frances,  and  I'll  try  be-^ 
cause  you  wish  it.  But  it's  not  at  all  what  I  want 
to  do.  I'm  wild  to  get  at  them,  to  fight  with  my 
hands,  not  with  my  head." 

But  it's  doubtful  if  he  followed  Frances'  advice 
as  she  would  have  had  him  do.  With  nothing  in 
his  mind  but  wild  anger  he  hurried  over  to  the  War- 
ner place.  Walking  around  the  house  he  found  one 
room  still  lighted ;  it  was  the  kitchen.  Without  paus- 
ing to  knock,  he  flung  open  the  door,  and  stepping  in, 
demanded  to  see  Sango.  Saishoto  took  it  upon  him- 
self to  act  as  spokesman  for  the  small  group  that 
was  seated  at  the  table. 

"Why  you  want  see  him?" 

"Never  mind  why;  where  is  he?" 

"He  not  here."  It  was  the  age-long  suspicion  of 
the  submerged  man.  Coulters  bore  every  evidence 
that  his  demands  were  not  for  Sango's  benefit,  so 
Saishoto  instinctively  sheltered  his  compatriot. 

(109) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  believe  he  is  here,  and  I'm  going  to  look 
through  the  house." 

"No  can  do.    This  our  house,  not  you." 

With  the  words  the  Japanese  were  covered  by  an 
imposing  looking  revolver.  Sam  was  a  fighter,  and 
no  novice  at  gun  play. 

"I  want  to  see  Sango,"  he  reiterated. 

uHe  not  here." 

Paying  no  further  attention  to  the  little  unarmed 
men,  and  still  holding  his  weapon  in  his  hand,  Sam 
pushed  through  the  doorway  into  the  dark  hall  be- 
yond. As  he  crossed  the  threshold  he  was  attacked. 
A  sharp  pain  tore  down  his  right  arm  from  shoulder 
to  wrist;  the  revolver  fell  from  his  hand.  Before  he 
could  shake  loose  from  his  assailant  a  dozen  were 
upon  him  and  pinned  him  to  the  floor.  With  his 
wounded  arm  Sam's  struggles  resulted  only  in  more 
pain,  and  soon  he  gave  up  and  lay  still. 

With  much  apprehension  Frances  had  watched 
her  father's  departure.  He  was  not  to  be  trusted 
tonight,  she  was  sure.  She  followed  him  to  the 
county  road  so  closely  as  to  see  that  he  made  his 
way  toward  the  Warner  place.  Then  she  hurried 
to  the  village. 

Meeting  Billy  Evans,  he  saw  that  something  was 
wrong.     He  had  her  story  in  a  moment. 

"Come  with  me  to  the  pool  room"  he  said.  "Some 
of  my  men  are  there.  Quite  a  few  of  them  are  in 
town  with  me  tonight.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to 
get  them  together." 

"I  want  to  find  Dr.  Hollington,  too.  He  has 
(110) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

made  such  friends  with  the  Japanese  that  he  has 
influence  with  them.  I  hope  Clem  Harding  is  here; 
he  will  know  what  to  do." 

"I  know  what  to  do.  Do  you  mind  waiting  here  a 
minute,  while  I  step  inside?" 

When  Evans  came  out  two  men  were  with  him. 

uHere  is  a  giant  to  act  as  your  body  guard,"  he 
said  to  Frances.  "You  must  be  careful  with  him; 
handle  him  as  you  would  a  piece  of  machinery.  I 
have  told  him  to  do  as  you  say,  and  he  will.  Clem 
is  in  the  livery  stable.  Now  I  will  leave  you,  and 
get  some  men  together  to  back  up  whatever  play 
your  father  is  making." 

Saishoto  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  Coulters. 
The  Japanese  talked  the  matter  over  excitedly,  de- 
ciding finally  to  keep  him  with  them  while  they  sent 
for  Hollington.  At  a  loss  to  understand  the  situa- 
tion, they  sent  word  to  the  other  colonies  to  gather 
at  Warners'.  Those  of  them  that  owned  rifles  or 
shotguns  brought  them  along.  Sam,  meanwhile,  had 
been  released  upon  his  promise  to  remain  quietly 
seated  until  Hollington  should  arrive. 

Some  little  difficulty  was  experienced  in  finding  the 
doctor,  for  he  was  not  in  his  office,  but  Watsa  finally 
caught  up  with  him,  and  told  how  Coulters  had  been 
made  prisoner.  Hollington  hurried  over  without 
delay.  Relief  came  to  every  one  as  he  walked  into 
the  kitchen. 

"Hello,  Sam!  I  have  heard  a  wild  story  about 
your  having  tried  to  shoot  up  this  place  and  your 
being  held  here." 

(Ill) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  came  for  Sango,  and  I  am  going  to  get  him." 

"What  has  he  done?" 

"He  stopped  Ruth  on  the  road  tonight,  tried  to 
talk  to  her,  and  followed  when  she  ran  from  him. 
She  is  in  bed  now,  sick  from  the  shock." 

"That  is  pretty  serious.  I  will  run  over  to  see 
her  in  a  few  minutes.     Saishoto,  where  is  Sango?" 

"What  you  do  to  him?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  will  have  to  tell  us  his  side  of 
the  story  first." 

"What  you  mean  by  that,  by  his  side  of  the 
story?"  Sam  was  on  his  feet,  his  whole  frame  shak- 
ing with  anger.  The  strain  of  what  had  gone  before 
was  finding  an  outlet  now. 

"You  surely  are  not  going  to  decide  on  the  pun- 
ishment until  Sango  has  had  an  opportunity  to  be 
heard?" 

Coulters'  hot  retort  was  interrupted  by  the  noise 
of  many  feet,  as  the  yard  filled  with  the  men  that 
Evans  and  Harding  had  collected.  Sam  turned  to- 
wards the  doorway,  obviously  intending  to  go  out  to 
them.     Saishoto  sprang  in  front  of  him. 

"You  no  go  now." 

"Let  him  pass,  Saishoto.  I  will  help  you  all  I  can, 
but  I  cannot  help  you  if  you  put  yourself  in  the 
wrong.  You  have  no  right  to  keep  him  here  against 
his  will." 

So  Sam  sullenly  left,  not  even  thanking  the  doctor, 
who  was  close  behind.  Coulters  felt  that  Holling- 
ton  was  not  on  his  side  in  this  quarrel. 

(112) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

Billy  Evans  was  all  for  action.  "Have  you  caught 
Sango  yet?" 

"I  think  he's  in  that  house,  but  there  is  no  way  I 
can  tell." 

"Shall  we  shoot  them  out,  or  burn  them  out?" 

"For  heaven's  sake,  men,  be  sensible.  There  are 
more  of  them  than  there  are  of  you,  they  have  ten  or 
twelve  guns,  and  all  the  law  is  on  their  side."  Hol- 
lington  was  talking  earnestly  to  Evans  and  Coulters, 
blind  to  the  fact  that  the  latter  was  growing  more 
and  more  hostile.  All  about  them  quiet  men  were 
crowding  in  to  hear,  while  from  the  house  came  the 
sound  of  furniture  being  moved  and  of  darkened 
windows  being  opened. 

"What  is  your  plan?"  Hollington  alone  failed  to 
catch  the  cold  sarcasm  behind  the  words. 

"Swear  out  a  warrant,  have  it  served  regularly. 
I  know  I  can  persuade  those  boys  to  respect  it." 

"And  have  Sango  fined  five  dollars  for  disturbing 
the  peace."  Hollington  noticed  it  now,  and  was 
shocked  at  the  tone.  "Advertise  it  that  any  damned 
Jap  can  insult  our  girls,  that  the  amusement  will  cost 
him  only  five  dollars.  It's  cheap  at  the  price.  Per- 
haps I  can  get  half  for  being  informer,  can  sell 
Ruth's  misery  for  two  dollars  and  a  half,  real  money. 
Dr.  Hollington,  such  ideas  may  prevail  in  your  set 
in  New  York,  but  in  Rosario  we  have  more  respect 
for  our  women.  You  will  have  to  think  of  some- 
thing better  than  that  to  protect  your  friends  in 
there." 

"Will  you  give  me  time  to  talk  to  them?" 
(H3) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Coulters  knew  that  those  about  him  recognized 
the  justice  of  this  request,  that  it  would  not  do  to 
allow  bloodshed  to  come  to  either  side  until  every 
other  resource  had  been  exhausted.  So  he  nodded 
his  head  in  assent. 

Hollington  was  gone  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes. 

"Sango  is  in  that  house;  I  have  been  with  him. 
His  story  is  that  he  saw  a  number  of  other  young 
men  with  girls,  that  when  he  met  Ruth  he  was  only 
trying  to  ask  her,  in  the  nicest  possible  way,  to  go 
for  a  drive  with  him." 

While  he  had  been  listening  to  Sango,  Hollington 
had  had  to  fight  a  strong  feeling  of  disgust  that 
there  should  even  be  discussed  anything  so  unthink- 
able in  these  two  spending  an  evening  together  in  a 
buggy.  And  of  all  persons  to  have  her  name  so 
dragged  in,  it  was  his  friend's  daughter,  Frances' 
sister,  dainty,  lovable  Ruth.  Still,  if  he  were  to  be 
true  to  his  ideals,  that  feeling  must  be  disregarded, 
he  must  judge  Sango  from  Sango's  own  point  of 
view.  No  such  considerations,  however,  governed 
the  group  to  whom  he  was  now  speaking,  while  the 
feeling  of  race  prejudice  was  far  stronger  with  them. 
There  was,  too,  another  vital  difference  between  the 
doctor  and  themselves.  He  had  listened  to  Sango's 
story  and  was  firmly  convinced  that  nothing  even 
disrespectful  was  intended,  while  they  were  equally 
certain  that  Sango's  real  motives  were  purely  lust. 

So  Robert's  report  was  not  well  received.  Hard- 
ing came  to  the  front,  ostentatiously  swinging  a  rope. 
Angry  mutterings  filled  the  air,  all  eyes  were  ex- 

(114) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

pectantly  turned  on  Coulters  to  see  what  orders  he 
would  give. 

"You  surely  don't  intend  to  let  the  boy  be 
hanged?"     Hollington's  voice  betrayed  his  feelings. 

"What  else  can  we  do?"  said  Evans.  "Is  there 
anything  between  that  and  your  five  dollar  fine?" 

"They'll  kill  so  many  of  you." 

"We're  not  afraid." 

"Try  to  think  of  something  else,  of  something 
reasonable,  and  I'll  save  a  number  of  your  lives,  for 
the  men  in  that  house  will  do  just  what  I  tell  them 
to  do." 

"Then  tell  them  to  send  Sango  out  to  us.  Be  true 
to  your  blood." 

"It  wouldn't  be  right  to  kill  that  boy  for  this  of- 
fense. If  I  led  him  out  to  go  to  his  death,  I  wouldn't 
be  true  to  their  trust  in  me.  And  I  won't  betray  that 
trust." 

"All  right,  then  get  out  of  the  way,"  growled 
Coulters,  "unless  you  want  to  be  in  that  house  when 
the  shooting  commences.  Boys, — "  he  turned  to 
give  an  order  which  would  have  added  a  red  chapter 
to  Rosario's  history,  when  the  men  about  him  were 
pushed  apart.  Her  giant  was  opening  a  way 
through  the  crowd  for  Frances. 

"You're  wrong,  Robert.  It's  horrible  to  think  of 
Sango's  being  lynched,  whether  he  deserves  it  or  not. 
But  neither  you  nor  I  can  judge  the  justice  of  it  all; 
we've  no  right  to  pit  our  opinions  against  a  whole 
group  of  our  neighbors.  And  further,  Robert,  are 
you  going  to  let  father  risk  his  life,  let  some  of 

(115) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

these  people  who  have  extended  you  their  friendship 
be  killed  because  they  don't  accept  your  definition  of 
what  is  wrong?  Even  if  you're  right,  their  lives  are 
worth  more  than  his,  your  duty  is  first  of  all  to  them. 

"I  am  all  woman,  Robert,  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
of  what  will  happen  to  Sango.  Yet  that  does  not 
weigh  against  father's  life  with  me,  and  it  must  not 
with  you."  There  was  a  veiled  threat  behind  the 
words,  a  threat  clearly  understood  by  both. 

Robert  looked  into  the  eyes  he  loved,  his  soul 
yearning  to  do  something,  to  do  anything  for  this 
girl.    And  all  the  time  he  knew  that  he  could  not. 

"Can't  you  see  that  we  must  have  that  boy?" 
Evans  had  waited  for  the  doctor  to  make  some  reply 
before  he  asked  the  question.  "If  we  go  home  now, 
as  you  seem  to  wish,  no  woman  in  this  valley  will  be 
safe  from  insult.  If  we  tell  those  Asiatics  that  such 
an  act  as  Sango's  may  be  done  with  impunity,  are 
they  more  than  human  that  they  will  not  accept  our 
invitation?  We  are  where  we  simply  have  to  go 
on." 

"Look  at  these  people,  Robert,"  continued  Fran- 
ces. "They  are  not  a  mob.  It's  the  vigilance  com- 
mittee again  protecting  California.  You  bring 
Sango  to  them,  Robert,  and  I  know  we  can  persuade 
them  to  do  what  is  right." 

"Frances,  neither  for  you  nor  for  anyone  else  will 
I  lure  that  boy  to  his  death.  If  there  is  any  per- 
suading to  be  done  the  proper  time  is  now." 

"There  are  possible  punishments  other  than  hang- 
ing," the  quiet  voice  of  Donald  Scott  broke  the  dead- 
die  ) 


AN  ANGRY  FATHER 

lock.  "I  read  that  the  whipping  post  had  been  re- 
vived somewhere  on  the  eastern  coast.  We  might 
use  that  or  think  of  something  else.  Suppose,  young 
man,  that  we  promise  not  to  kill  Sango,  will  you  try 
to  bring  him  peaceably  to  us?" 

"Yes!" 

"Well,  Sam,  can  we  make  that  promise?" 

Coulters  turned  leisurely  to  look  at  Scott,  then 
let  his  eyes  wander  over  the  group.  He  saw  Billy 
Evans,  a  terrier  on  leash.  He  saw  Clem  Harding, 
his  arms  freed  by  coiling  the  rope  over  one  shoulder 
and  under  the  other.  He  caught  Frances'  glance, 
and  the  two  smiled  at  each  other.  For  the  old,  grey 
fox  was  himself  again,  weighing,  discarding,  playing 
for  the  future.  He  saw  Bates  and  Hastings,  and 
Towers,  Graham,  Watson,  and  Hancock,  every- 
where the  faces  of  neighbors  and  friends  who  were 
trusting  their  lives  to  his  judgment.  He  saw  a  knot 
of  strangers  from  the  mines,  grouped  behind  their 
chief,  who  in  turn  awaited  but  a  word  to  throw  them 
into  action. 

He  saw  Hollington,  the  man  who  had  so  recently 
been,  perhaps,  his  closest  friend,  and  possible  son- 
in-law.  He  tried  not  to  judge  harshly,  tried  to  per- 
suade himself  that  this  slight,  quiet  boy,  the  young- 
est of  them  all,  who  had  been  unmoved  by  fifty  men 
under  the  sway  of  passion,  who  had  had  his  way 
against  them,  was  to  be  praised  rather  than  blamed. 
But  stronger  than  his  own  will  and  his  reason  was 
a  feeling  he  could  not  down,  that  came  from  the 

(117) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

knowledge  that  Hollington  had  been  against  him, 
against  Ruth  and  Frances,  had  taken  the  part  of  the 
Japanese.  Sensitive  to  a  fault  on  any  question  of 
loyalty,  he  could  not  control  the  tone  of  his  voice 
when  at  last  he  spoke : 

"We  promise.    See  what  you  can  do." 


(118) 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Breach 

TT  T ITHOUT  a  word  Hollington  turned,  and  once 
™  "  more  entered  the  cottage.  He  went  direct  to 
Sango. 

"You  must  come  with  me.  Your  fault  was  great, 
speaking  to  that  girl  as  you  did;  you  will  have  to  be 
punished  so  that  no  other  white  woman  will  be 
frightened  like  that."    ' 

Sango  grasped  the  meaning,  though  he  did  not 
understand  the  words  as  Saishoto  did. 

"What  they  do  to  him?"  asked  the  latter. 

"No  one  knows.  They  will  decide  when  they  have 
Sango." 

"I  see  guns  and  rope.    They  kill  him?" 

"They'll  not  kill  him,  Saishoto." 

"I  hear  him  say — " 

"They  meant  to  at  first,  but  they  have  promised 
me  not  to,  and  they  will  keep  that  promise  if  you 
send  Sango  out  to  them." 

"I  no  go !    I  no  go !"  cried  the  terrified  boy. 

Saishoto,  disregarding  him,  began  to  talk  to  the 
others  in  their  native  language.  His  argument  was 
that  if  the  boy  was  not  to  be  killed,  they  owed  him 
no  further  duty.  If  they  gave  in  to  the  white  men 
on  this  occasion,  they  would  not  be  waiving  any  of 
their  rights,  nor  would  they  stultify  themselves. 
And  the  doctor  wanted  them  to ;  he  had  always  been 

(119) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

their  friend,  he  wouldn't  ask  this  of  them  were  it 
not  for  the  best. 

It  was  agreed.  Sango,  like  a  trapped  animal  seek- 
ing escape,  made  a  wild  dash  for  the  hall.  But  a 
dozen  hands  seized  him.  Struggling,  biting,  kicking, 
he  was  carried  out  to  the  waiting  whites.  The  rope 
was  requisitioned;  he  was  triced  in  an  instance.  Two 
of  Evans'  huskies  picked  up  the  slight  frame,  and  the 
crowd,  led  by  Coulters,  started  for  some  quiet  place 
where  they  might  hold  a  council  of  war. 

They  did  not  all  go,  however.  The  Japanese 
were  consumed  with  curiosity  to  know  what  would 
become  of  Sango.  But  they  had  been  too  nearly  in 
battle  to  consider  satisfying  that  curiosity.  They 
trooped  back  to  their  house  talking  excitedly  in  low 
tones. 

Frances  remained,  because  a  woman's  presence 
was  no  longer  needed.  Her  shadow  stood  beside 
her,  since  no  one  had  thought  to  change  his  orders. 
And  Hollington  stayed. 

"Frances,  what  is  it  that  has  come  between  us?" 

"I  don't  know,  Robert;  you  wouldn't  lie,  even  for 
me.  I  ought  to  honor  you  for  that.  You  were  right 
the  entire  time,  you  accomplished  single-handed  what 
all  those  men  couldn't  have  done  without  a  heavy 
loss  of  life,  if  even  then.  I  ought  to  be  proud  of 
you.  If  what  you  did  had  been  done  for  us,  you 
would  be  the  hero  of  Rosario.  What  were  your 
motives,  Robert?" 

"Motives?  I  had  none;  I  did  what  I  knew  was 
(120) 


THE  BREACH 

right.  I  suppose  you  are  going  home.  May  I  walk 
over  with  you?" 

Frances  hesitated.  "I'm  so  unstrung  by  what  has 
happened  tonight  that  I  hardly  know  what  I'm  say- 
ing or  doing.  I  want  to  get  to  bed,  to  cry  myself  to 
sleep.  I  want  to  be  alone.  You  don't  mind,  do 
you?" 

Of  course,  Hollington  said  no ;  there  are  some  lies 
he  was  not  above  telling.  He  walked  slowly  toward 
his  office,  passing  the  groves  he  had  learned  to  love, 
through  the  valley  that  had  become  his  home.  He 
wondered  how  seriously  Frances  was  offended;  what 
Coulters'  feelings  towards  him  were  going  to  be;  if 
the  people  as  a  whole  would  condemn  him  as  Sam 
had  done.  Had  he  really  been  a  renegade?  If  so, 
would  Frances  ever  forgive  him?  Yes,  he  told  him- 
self, if  she  really  loved  him  she  would  forgive  him 
anything  that  was  not  dishonorable.  What  he  did 
could  not  have  been  dishonorable,  because  it  was 
right.  But  if  she  did  not  love  him?  Had  the  an- 
swer come  to  her  tonight,  to  her  and  to  him? 

He  reached  his  office  in  a  depressed  frame  of 
mind.  Sitting  idly  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  rested  on  a 
row  of  books  that  he  had  scarcely  touched.  In  the 
other  room  he  remembered  there  were  some  boxes 
of  unpacked  laboratory  paraphernalia.  Always 
there  remained  to  him  that  research  work. 

Frances  dismissed  her  guard  before  she  reached 
the  house.  Ruth  and  the  mother  were  asleep,  so 
instead  of  going  in  at  once,  she  lay  down  on  the 
porch  hammock,  pulled  a  robe  over  her,  and  fell 

(121) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

to  watching  the  landscape  with  unseeing  eyes.  Hours 
later,  Evans  and  Coulters  found  here  there,  asleep. 

"I'm  glad  you  are  up,"  said  her  father,  wakening 
her.  "Billy  is  to  spend  the  night  here,  for  it's  too 
late  to  go  back  to  the  mine.  Besides,  we're  both 
rather  tired." 

"Is  it  all  over  and  settled,  father?" 

"Yes,  in  a  way."     Frances  shuddered. 

"It  was  the  famous  story  over  again,  of  putting 
the  bell  on  the  cat,"  said  Billy.  "We  talked  over  a 
lot  of  ideas,  and  nothing  offered  that  seemed  any 
better  than  old  Donald's  plan.  We  argued  about 
how  it  was  to  be  done,  and  settled  all  the  gruesome 
details.  But  we  couldn't  find  anyone  who  would  do 
it.  So  we  took  the  boy  to  the  edge  of  the  town, 
pointed  his  face  to  the  coast,  and  told  him  never  to 
come  back.    That  incident  is  closed." 

Frances  stole  up  to  her  father,  slipping  her  arm 
through  his. 

"It  might  have  been  such  a  different  ending." 

By  tacit  consent,  out  of  a  delicate  respect  for  each 
other's  position,  no  one  followed  up  that  last  re- 
mark. 

Worry  is  a  poor  bedfellow.  Hollington  did'nt 
sleep  well  that  night,  and  the  feeling  of  depression 
was  still  with  him  in  the  morning.  He  started  his 
round  of  calls  with  a  good  deal  of  trepidation.  If 
his  conduct  of  the  night  before  had  so  affected  the 
Coulters  it  was  reasonable  to  expect  that  less  close 
friends  would  be  even  more  estranged.  Yet  call 
after    call    showed    no    apparent    difference.      Of 

(122) 


THE  BREACH 

course,  the  story  was  all  over  the  valley.  It  was 
generally  believed  that  the  doctor,  exercising  his 
well-known  influence  with  the  Japanese,  had  per- 
suaded them  to  surrender  Sango  to  be  run  out  of  the 
settlement.  Such  conduct  was  so  entirely  natural  as 
hardly  to  warrant  comment. 

The  wild  stories  that  there  had  been  plans  to 
lynch  the  boy  were  not  generally  accepted.  One 
could  hardly  believe  that  men  would  seriously  con- 
template hanging  a  boy  for  such  an  offense,  unless 
one  had  happened  to  be  present  and  under  the  spell 
of  mob  violence.  Most  of  those  who  were  there 
belittled  the  matter,  through  a  feeling  of  shame. 
The  situation  had  worked  out  well,  and  it  was  only 
human  nature  that  those  who  had  participated 
should  like  to  give  out  the  impression  that  the  final 
outcome  was  what  had  really  been  intended  from 
the  first. 

While  the  doctor  was  making  his  morning  calls, 
Coulters  had  drifted  over  to  see  Edward  Winfield. 
Sam  was  so  nervous  and  restless  this  morning  that 
it  fretted  him  not  to  be  able  to  speak  in  his  own 
house  either  of  his  bitterness  toward  the  Japanese 
or  of  his  disappointment  in  Robert  Hollington.  The 
old  pioneer  was  not  of  the  breed  to  waste  daylight 
in  any  such  frivolous  way  as  the  relieving  of  his  feel- 
ings by  talk.  He  had  some  business  to  transact  with 
Winfield,  which  he  believed  to  be  the  sole  reason 
for  his  visit.  When  the  work  was  completed,  con- 
versation turned  to  general  topics.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances,   some    mention    of    the    Japanese    was 

(123) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

bound  to  occur  sooner  or  later,  and  with  the  first 
allusion  to  them  came  the  story  of  the  night  before. 

Sam  was  not  very  voluble,  but  Edward  was  in- 
terested enough  to  draw  out  the  story.  Of  course, 
Winfield  heard  it  as  Coulters  had  seen  it,  especially 
regarding  Sango's  motives,  and  it  was  also  so  plaus- 
ible that  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  of  its  accuracy. 
The  invalid  made  few  comments,  but  he  listened 
sympathetically  and  asked  many  questions.. 

When  that  stirring  evening  had  been  exhausted, 
the  conversation  began  to  lag.  Edward's  restless 
mind  wandered  to  recollections  of  the  Japanese  in 
their  native  country. 

"You  have  never  been  to  Japan,  have  you?"  he 
asked.  "I  used  to  be  an  inveterate  globe  trotter, 
and  was  forever  stopping  over  there  on  one  jaunt 
or  another.  The  last  trip  I  was  able  to  make  was  to 
Tokio  and  the  mountains  of  the  east  coast.  The 
natives  have  some  customs  that  are  curious,  per- 
haps it  would  be  fairer  to  say  that  are  different  from 
ours.  For  instance,  one  comes  to  me  which  not  only 
illustrates  this  idea  but  shows  after  all  what  a  small 
world  is  ours.      Have  you  ever  seen  Kotingo?" 

"Kotingo?    Oh,  Saishoto's  picture-bride." 

"She  passed  me  a  day  or  so  ago  when  I  was  out 
in  my  chair.  She  remembered  me,  for  tourists  are 
not  frequent  in  her  old  home,  and  when  she  spoke, 
I,  too,  remembered  her.  You  never  could  guess 
where  I  saw  her  last;  it  was  in  Sendai,  where  she 
was  a  professional  prostitute." 

Sam's  surprise  was  ludicrous. 
(124) 


THE  BREACH 

"If  she  were  a  white  girl,  and  I  knew  such  a  fact 
in  her  history,  every  decent  instinct  in  a  man  would 
demand  that  I  should  keep  this  information  to  my- 
self." Edward  was  defending  himself  from  the 
imfutation  of  Sam's  manner.  "But  suppose  I  knew 
a  girl  who  was  married  to  someone  in  this  valley, 
and  at  the  time  I  had  been  acquainted  with  her  she 
was  a  working  girl,  do  you  think  there  would  be  any 
indelicacy  in  recalling  the  fact?  There  is  a  loss  of 
caste  among  us  for  the  girl  who  works,  to  be  sure, 
and  there  is  a  loss  of  caste  in  Japan  for  the  girl  who 
does  what  Kotingo  did.  You  know  how  insignifi- 
cant a  matter  the  first  case  is,  the  other  is  even  more 
trivial.  It  is  a  strangely  consistent  working  out  of 
national  ideas  on  the  subject  of  morality." 

To  Edward  Winfield,  broadened  by  travel  and 
sickness,  the  recital  was  as  impersonal  as  though  he 
had  been  describing  a  picturesque  costume  or  a  re- 
ligious ritual.  Like  so  many  persons,  he  too  readily 
ascribed  to  others  little  characteristics  of  his  own, 
so  he  must  not  be  judged  harshly  because  his  own 
tolerance  in  this  case  was  shared  by  no  one  in  Ro- 
sario. 

To  Sam  Coulters  the  story  was  one  to  be  seized 
with  delight.  He  was  growing  bitter  towards  these 
yellow  men  who  were  frustrating  and  threatening 
him,  his  family,  and  the  community  he  was  trying 
to  guard.  That  one  of  their  leaders,  one  of  his  arch 
enemies  was  married  to  a  lewd  woman  brought  a 
feeling  of  repose  to  this  vindictive  old  fighter. 

The  story  made  Mrs.  Coulters  uncomfortable. 
(126) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Of  course,  she  knew  that  such  things  existed,  but, 
idealist  and  dreamer  that  she  was,  she  kept  all 
thoughts  of  them  as  much  as  possible  in  the  back- 
ground. When  a  case  as  flagrant  as  this  was 
brought  out  and  flaunted  in  her  face,  was  made  al- 
most a  part  of  her  own  life,  her  feelings — well, 
they  might  be  compared  to  those  of  an  ardent  col- 
lector who  finds  that  one  of  his  choicest  treasures  is 
but  a  spurious  imitation. 

It  was  on  a  Friday  evening  that  Ruth  had  had  her 
unpleasant  experience,  and  now  Sunday  afternoon 
had  come,  the  afternoon  that  Frances  and  Robert 
had  long  ago  become  accustomed  to  save  for  each 
other.  Hollington  was  puzzled  to  know  what  was 
expected  of  him  today.  He  thought  of  a  pretext 
for  calling  Frances  on  the  telephone,  trusting  that 
a  conversation  with  her  would  clear  the  situation. 
But  the  operator  reported  the  Coulters'  line  out  of 
order. 

A  trifle  upset,  too  nervous  for  inaction,  he  took 
his  motor  from  its  shed  and  started  for  the  post 
office.  On  the  way  he  met  Frances  afoot.  Of 
course,  he  asked  her  to  take  a  seat  in  his  car,  and 
learning  that  her  mission  was  to  leave  a  book  with 
Mrs.  Clark,  he  drove  to  Montemar,  the  Clark 
home.  That  done,  the  force  of  habit  took  hold  of 
both,  and  they  found  themselves  idly  travelling  the 
old  familiar  trail  towards  the  mountains. 

Little  was  said,  for  each  felt  a  certain  amount  of 
restraint,   while   uncertain   of   the   attitude   of   the 

(126) 


THE  BREACH 

other.    They  came  to  the  Kraemer  tract,  Saishoto's 
home. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  run  in  there  a  moment?" 
Robert  asked.  "I've  been  experimenting  on  some 
guinea  pigs  that  Saishoto  is  taking  care  of  for  me. 
I'm  wondering  how  they  look  today;  you  might 
find  them  interesting  yourself." 

"Do  you  have  to  see  them  right  away?" 

"No." 

"Then  please  drive  on."  And  Robert,  sensitive 
to  every  fleeting  change  in  her  humor,  did  so  un- 
hesitatingly. 

Just  off  the  floor  of  the  valley,  shading  a  knoll 
which  commanded  a  view  of  nearly  all  Rosario, 
stood  an  immense  oak.  One  great  branch  pointed 
at  the  heart  of  the  settlement.  About  ten  feet  above 
the  ground  it  ran,  almost  horizontally,  carrying 
wide  spread  foliage  impervious  alike  to  rain  and 
to  sun.  Underneath  it  Robert  steered  his  car,  and 
once  again  Frances  and  he  were  in  a  spot  sur- 
charged with  memories.  Very  quietly  they  sat  today, 
dreamily  contemplating  the  baking  plain,  idly  watch- 
ing the  coming  and  going  of  the  little  whirlwinds. 

"I  can  almost  see  my  guinea  pigs  from  here," 
Robert  remarked.  He  was  but  making  conversa- 
tion, for  once  entirely  out  of  tune  with  her  thoughts 
and  feelings. 

"Do  you  go  to  Saishoto's  home  very  often?"  she 
asked. 

"Every  day  while  this  experiment  is  running." 

"How  soon  do  you  expect  to  finish?" 
(127) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"It  will  be  all  over  in  a  few  days." 

"After  that  I  suppose  you  will  not  go  there  any 
more?" 

"Certainly  I  shall.  Saishoto  is  Hanba's  repre- 
sentative here,  the  natural  and  official  leader  of  the 
Japanese.  They  bring  all  their  troubles  and  dis- 
putes to  him.  He  settles  those  that  are  simple,  but 
there  are  many  knotty  ones,  dealing  with  all  the 
ramifications  of  American  life,  on  which  he  needs  my 
help." 

"Oh!"  sighed  Frances;  relief  was  patent.  "Then 
he  could  call  at  your  office  instead  of  your  going  to 
him." 

"It  couldn't  be  done  in  that  way,  for  my  relations 
with  them  are  not  as  formal  as  that  would  imply. 
You  know  these  people  better  than  to  suppose  that 
they  would  admit  not  being  able  to  handle  the  little 
affairs  of  life  without  outside  aid.  If  there  happen 
to  be  several  of  the  boys  around  when  I  drop  in, 
my  views  are  asked  merely  as  a  matter  of  general 
interest.  Or  I  can  be  told  of  some  discussion  if 
Saishoto  and  his  wife  are  alone.  It  really  doesn't 
take  any  more  of  my  time  to  go  to  them,  and  in 
that  way  I  can  make  it  better  suit  my  convenience." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  so  much  of  your  time  and 
convenience."  Frances  spoke  in  a  low,  soft  voice, 
without  a  trace  of  feeling  behind  the  words.  She 
clearly  was  trying  to  say  more,  but  found  it  difficult. 

"You're  making  me  talk  in  the  dark,  Frances. 
Please  tell  me  of  what  you're  thinking." 

"I  must.  Father  saw  Edward  Winfield  this  morn- 
(128) 


THE  BREACH 

ing,  and  in  some  way  learned  that  the  woman  Sais- 
hoto  married — it  is  so  hard  to  tell  you  what  I  mean." 

"Perhaps,  you're  referring  to  the  life  she  led  be- 
fore she  left  Japan?" 

"Do  you  know  about  it?" 

"I  know  what  Saishoto  told  me." 

"What  her  husband  told  you !  I  wonder  if  we're 
both  referring  to  the  same  thing." 

"We  are." 

"And  you  have  gone  to  her  house  regularly, 
knowing  all  about  her?" 

"She  doesn't  appear  to  have  been  coarsened;  she 
is  quiet  and  friendly." 

"Why,  Robert,  you  surely  haven't  made  friends 
with  her." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have." 

"How  could  you?" 

"Because  I've  taken  over  a  trust  left  me  by  Dr. 
Ailing,  which  necessitates  my  doing  so." 

"You  can  fulfill  your  duty  without  seeing  this 
woman  or  going  to  her  home." 

"Frances,  you  are  unreasonable.  You  know  I 
haven't  the  slightest  interest  in  her " 

"That  remark  was  unnecessary."  She  showed 
she  was  hurt. 

"Please  be  frank  with  me.  I  know  something  is 
wrong.    Am  I  not  entitled  to  be  told?" 

"You  are,  if  I  can  do  so,  but  I  scarcely  under- 
stand it  myself.  Something  in  me  cries  out  at  the 
thought  of  your  talking  to  such  a  woman  on  a 
friendly  basis,   and  then  coming  to  see  me.     If  I 

(129) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

could  give  my  reasons  for  feeling  this  way  I  would. 
But  I  haven't  reasoned  it  out  and  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  what  you're  doing  is  wrong;  I  feel  that 
way  because  every  instinct  in  me  is  repelled  at  the 
thought.  If  I  tried  to  argue  it  with  you,  you  would 
still  feel  that  I  was  unreasonable,  for  no  matter  how 
badly  I  might  be  worsted  in  the  discussion,  never- 
theless I  would  be  sure  I  was  right.  Tell  me  that 
I  am  a  prudish,  simple-minded  country  girl,  that  the 
world  accepts  such  things,  that  it  means  nothing  to 
the  Japanese,  that  I  am  uncharitable,  that  there  is  no 
similarity  between  your  friendship  for  her  and  for 
me,  that  that  phase  of  her  life  is  past,  so  that  you 
can  carry  no  pollution,  and  I  will  answer  that  it 
makes  no  difference,  that  women  react  to  impulses 
finer  than  those  of  men,  impulses  that  vary  widely 
among  women  themselves.  It  so  happens  that  my 
life,  my  bringing  up,  my  character,  has  made  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  tolerate  your  having  that  woman 
for  a  friend  while  you  are  calling  regularly  on  me. 
I  don't  want  to  be  narrow,  I  don't  want  to  feel  that 
way,  there  is  nothing  voluntary  about  it.  It's  some- 
thing I  can't  help." 

"Is  the  feeling  as  strong  as  that?" 

"It's  more  than  a  feeling,  Robert,  it's  part  of 
me. 

"You  tell  me  that  there  is  no  use  in  my  trying  to 
persuade  you  that  you  are  wrong.  But  if  I  could 
show  you  that  in  this  particular  case  the  conditions 
do  not  hold  which  primarily  would  make  your  con- 
duct not  only  justifiable  but  commendable,  if  I  could 

(130) 


THE  BREACH 

show  you  that  what  I'm  doing  is  both  proper  and 
necessary,  would  you  still  remain  so  determined?" 

"I  am  afraid  so." 

"Will  you  grant  that  my  conception  of  my  duty  as 
Dr.  Alling's  successor  is  correct?  Will  you  concede 
that  unless  I  keep  my  relations  with  those  Japanese 
just  what  they  are  I  shall  be  unable  to  fulfill  my 
obligation  as  far  as  they  are  concerned?  You're  as 
familiar  with  the  circumstances  as  I  am  myself;  it 
ought:  not  to  be  necessary  for  me  to  argue  these 
points  with  you." 

"It  isn't.  I  know  what  you  mean,  and  undoubt- 
edly you're  right." 

"Then  it  follows  that  no  matter  how  terrific  be- 
comes the  outside  pressure,  no  matter  how  much  I 
may  desire  to  please  you,  I  must  go  on,  be  the  con- 
sequences what  they  may." 

"Be  the  consequences  what  they  may?" 

"Yes,  for  to  do  otherwise  would  be  to  do  a  great 
wrong." 

"There  is  another  way  of  looking  at  it,  Robert." 

"What  is  that  other  way?" 

"You  took  up  this  task  voluntarily." 

"Yes." 

"So  you  have  the  right  to  abandon  it  whenever 
you  choose." . 

"If  I  only  could  believe  so!  I  would  give  any- 
thing to  be  able  to  put  it  all  aside,  but  I  cannot." 

"You'll  never  be  repaid,  hardly  even  thanked,  for 
what  you  are  doing  for  these  Japanese." 

(131) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"It's  not  for  them,  it's  because  I  must  do  what's 
right." 

"We  appear  to  have  reached  an  impasse." 

They  sat  in  silence.  Then  minute  after  minute 
went  by,  each  waiting  for  the  other  to  give  in,  each 
without  heat  or  feeling  knowing  that  he  could  not  be 
the  one  to  do  so.  Frances  it  was  who  ended  the  un- 
pleasant situation. 

"I  think  you'd  best  take  me  home  now,"  she  said, 
"for  I'm  tired.  I'm  so  little  used  to  excitement  that 
I  have  not  even  yet  recovered  from  Friday  night." 

"Perhaps  the  fault  lies  with  me,"  she  murmured, 
as  the  car  slowly  turned  toward  Rosario. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once.  The  conversation 
was  becoming  punctuated  with  intervals  during 
which  neither  spoke,  intervals  which  were  growing 
longer  and  increasingly  difficult  to  break.  And  the 
words,  when  they  did  come,  were  slow,  deliberate, 
carefully  chosen. 

"If  you  cared  for  me  as  I  want  you  to,  I  can't 
help  feeling  that  you  would  accept  my  necessity, 
close  your  eyes  to  the  unpleasant  features  of  the  situ- 
ation, and  trust  me." 

"Trusting  you  is  not  an  issue.  If  I  loved  a  man, 
it  would  be  with  an  overpowering  passion  which 
would  take  complete  possession  of  me,  which  would 
govern  my  every  thought  and  feeling,  and  which 
would  demand  so  much  in  return  that  it  couldn't  tol- 
erate a  loyalty  higher  than  the  one  due  me,  nor  an 
association  with  anything  that  was  not  absolutely 
clean.     I  have  always  known  that  I  was  an  idealist, 

(132) 


THE  BREACH 

but  never  before  did  I  realize  to  what  an  extent. 
Robert,  it's  everything  or  nothing  with  me." 

"Then,  if  I  remain  true  to  my  ideals,  if  I  refuse 
to  stultify  myself,  if  I  believe  that  no  true  happiness 
can  ever  be  founded  on  wrong-doing,  and  act  ac- 
cording to  that  belief,  am  I — am  I,"  he  paused 
again,  hesitatingly,  then  turned  to  her  with  sad,  un- 
flinching eyes,  "am  I  receiving  my  answer?" 

They  were  almost  home.  She  did  not  reply  while 
the  car  was  turning  from  the  county  road,  nor  while 
it  was  on  the  driveway.  But  when  they  had  circled 
the  house  and  stopped  opposite  the  front  steps  and 
he  had  turned  off  his  engine,  she  knew  that  she  must 
say  something  before  she  left  her  seat. 

"I  am  sorry,  more  so  than  you  will  ever  know. 
I  wish  I  could  explain  it  to  you  better,  for  you  are 
entitled  to  more  explanation.  I  wish  I  could  under- 
stand it  better  myself.  It  hurts  me  to  see  you 
aligned  with  those  people  who  have  shown  them- 
selves, on  every  occasion,  to  be  the  implacable 
enemies  of  the  people  I  love." 

She  was  on  the  ground  now,  offering  her  hand. 
She  betrayed  emotion  and  suffering  which  belied 
her  carefully  chosen  words,  and  which  encouraged 
Hollington  to  ask. 

"May  I  come  over,  to  discuss  this  with  you 
again?" 

"It  would  only  give  pain  to  us  both."  She  was 
speaking  very  deliberately  with  an  apparent  struggle 
for  self-possession.     If  there  had  been  a  trace  of 

(133) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

heat  or  of  anger,  if  there  were  anything  that  could 
be  changed,  it  would  be  different. 

"Then,"  for  the  first  time  since  his  childhood  he 
lost  control  of  himself.  Even  such  self-possession 
as  his  could  not  stand  this  strain,  as  with  tears  on 
his  cheeks  and  breaking  voice,  he  asked,  uIs  this 
good-bye?" 

"Good-bye,  Robert.  May  God  reward  you,  if  I 
cannot,  for  being  the  big,  strong  man  that  you  are." 


(134) 


CHAPTER  XI 

Coulters  Stumps  the  State 

Apolitical  boss  is  a  man  who  is  able  to  exact  the 
fulfillment  of  his  wishes  by  the  makers  and 
executives  of  local  laws.  How  he  acquires  this 
power  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  our  civic  life.  Ac- 
cident and  personality,  combined  with  work,  per- 
severance and  foresight  are  concomitants.  Once 
established  he  holds  his  position  as  the  virtual  clear- 
ance house  of  all  who  have  something  to  gain  or 
something  to  fear  from  the  established  authorities. 
For  those  who  walk  in  the  shadow  of  the  law,  the 
denizens  of  the  brothels  and  the  dives,  he  trades  pro- 
tection for  support,  for  votes  at  election  time. 

Naturally,  if  when  some  poor  devil  is  in  trouble 
mysterious  powers  from  above  take  interest  enough 
in  his  existence  either  to  clear  him  if  his  offense  be 
trivial,  or  to  mitigate  the  punishment  if  deserved, 
there  is  produced  a  supporter  of  the  organization 
which  offered  more  friendship  than  had  ever  before 
been  extended  to  him.  Of  a  surety  he  will  vote  as 
that  organization  wishes;  he  may  be  called  upon 
for  any  small  services.  More  valuable  still,  when 
men  are  seated  about  a  table  or  grouped  in  some 
idle  knot,  and  discussion  turns  to  any  man  or  meas- 
ure in  which  the  organization  is  interested,  there  is 
consistently  added  one  more  loyal  voice. 

Unless  born  reformers,  men  do  not  care  to  antag- 
(135) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

onize  public  opinion.  If  there  are  five  together, 
three  of  whom  believe  in  the  truth  of  some  subject 
under  discussion  on  which  the  other  two  have  no 
decided  views,  it  is  human  nature  for  those  others  to 
keep  silent,  and  more  often  than  not,  still  following 
the  lines  of  least  resistance,  to  accept  the  opinion  of 
the  majority.     So  is  public  sentiment  created. 

If  some  quasi-public  corporation  is  asked  for 
funds,  it  expects  and  receives  in  return  deference  to 
its  wishes  whenever  laws  affecting  itself  are  under 
discussion.  If  one  holds  office  by  virtue  of  the  or- 
ganization's consent  or  help,  he  is  expected  to  make 
such  return  as  he  can  through  influencing  his  friends 
and  his  family.  In  fact,  his  ability  so  to  do  is  usually 
a  condition  precedent  to  his  employment.  All 
through  the  intimate  affairs  of  life  run  the  wires. 
The  same  hand  that  protects  one  woman  in  the  re- 
stricted district  may  open  to  another  the  doors  of 
some  exclusive  reception;  the  man  who  gratifies  his 
vanity  by  holding  office  in  some  prominent  club  may 
thank  the  same  power  that  helps  a  down  and  outer 
secure  his  daily  stipend  of  morphine.  It  is  all  one 
vast  trade,  with  some  central  figure,  known  at  large, 
who  is  in  a  position  to  exact  the  best  of  every  bar- 
gain. 

Such  was  Rutherford  White.  It  was  the  satisfy- 
ing of  his  ambition,  the  love  of  power,  that  ap- 
pealed to  him,  rather  than  the  emoluments,  for 
these  latter  had  to  be  divided  among  a  large  number 
of  associates.  There  was  the  thrill  and  exhilaration 
of  a  perpetual  fight  and   a   perpetual  uncertainty. 

(136) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

No  one  knew  better  than  himself  that  his  tenure  was 
founded  on  the  fact  that  ninety-five  men  in  a  hundred 
may  be  disregarded  on  normal  occasions;  they  stay 
at  home,  or  vote  blindly,  or  wastefully,  or  neutral- 
ize each  other.  No  one  knew  better  than  himself 
that  what  he  could  demand  or  give  was  not  fixed  by 
precedent  or  custom,  but  was  a  wide  open  scramble 
for  the  quickest  brain.  No  one  knew  better  than 
himself  how  at  any  moment  an  error  in  decision 
might  wreck  him,  how  many  apparently  friendly 
hands  were  really  reaching  for  his  throat,  how 
much  hatred,  jealousy,  and  revenge  lay  in  the  foun- 
dation of  his  superstructure. 

Sam  Coulters  made  a  rather  secret  call  upon  him. 

"It's  the  same  business  that  brought  me  here  be- 
fore," he  said.  "We  must  have  a  law  to  prevent 
the  Japanese  from  owning  land  in  California." 

"You  tried  it  once,  Sam.  Stop  butting  your  head 
against  a  stone  wall.  I  can  find  something  better 
for  you  to  do ;  how  would  you  like  to  make  the  race 
for  county  recorder?  The  back-country  is  entitled 
to  more  than  it  has  been  receiving." 

"Thanks,  but  I'm  working  on  a  different  line. 
I'm  going  to  put  through  that  land  law  and  you're 
going  to  help." 

"I  can't  afford  to  be  behind  schemes  that  fail. 
You  know  I  was  not  born  chairman  of  the  central 
committee,  and  that  it's  not  a  life  job.  In  fact  you 
once  particularly  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that 
I  could  easily  be  unseated.  Suppose  the  gang  begins 
to  say,  'He's  working  for  that  Japanese  land  law, 

(137) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

but  he  can  never  put  it  over;  old  White  is  losing  his 
grip.'    How  long  do  you  think  I'd  last?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  run  you  out  into  the  open  this 
time."  Sam  spoke  as  one  who  gives  orders  rather 
than  asks  favors.  "You  are  to  help  crystallize  pub- 
lic sentiment.  We  can  put  the  affair  in  such  shape 
that  if  it  falls  through  again  your  connection  with  it 
will  not  become  known,  while  if  it  carries  you  will 
be  credited  with  having  retrieved  your  most  conspic- 
uous failure.  And  this  time  it's  not  going  to  be 
blocked." 

"I'm  willing  to  listen,  for  you  usually  talk  sense. 
But  you  can't  do  anything  more  than  we  did  last 
spring.  The  facts  haven't  changed,  at  least  not  for 
the  better.  Suppose  you  do  work  it  through  the 
legislature,  it'll  be  killed  on  orders  from  Washing- 
ton." 

"We'll  succeed  in  spite  of  Washington!" 

"You're  foolish,  Sam.  Even  if  you  could  pass 
your  law,  the  supreme  court  would  nullify  it  for 
conflicting  with  federal  treaties." 

"We  must  frame  a  law  that  will  not  do  so.  That 
brings  me  to  one  of  the  things  I  want  you  to  do. 
Send  word  to  the  attorney  general  to  give  me  the 
legal  advice  I  require." 

"That  I'm  glad  to  do.  But  can't  you  see  that  no 
matter  what  you  do  Diester  will  be  told  to  drop  it, 
and  it'll  end  there?" 

"Would  it  worry  you  very  much  if  he  were  unable 
to  carry  out  such  orders?" 

"You  old  fox!"  laughed  White,  for  he  thoroughly 
(138) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

enjoyed  this  turn  in  the  conversation.  "I  refuse  to 
answer  on  advice  of  counsel." 

"Without  risking  anything  at  all,  wouldn't  it  be 
possible  for  you  to  persuade  Diester  to  keep  his 
hands  off?  Say  until  he  receives  direct  orders  to 
interfere." 

"Easy  as  falling  off  a  log.  But  you  surely  are  not 
planning  to  buck  Diester,  too?" 

"He  proved  once  that  he  can  take  orders  as 
readily  as  he  can  give  them.  He  probably  was  right 
in  refusing  to  over-ride  the  governor's  veto,  but  his 
motive  in  so  doing  was  simple  obedience  to  those 
above.  I'm  not  exactly  going  to  buck  Diester,  I'm 
merely  trying  to  fix  things  so  that  he'll  hear  a  louder 
noise  from  the  west  side  of  the  mountains  than  from 
the  east." 

"Why  not  persuade  him  to  put  it  through  again?" 

"Simply  because  it  can't  be  done  that  way.  We've 
already  had  it  proven  to  us  that  Diester  can't  dis- 
obey Washington,  and  that  legislators  who  vote  for 
a  measure  when  he  tells  them  to  will  just  as  readily 
vote  against  it  on  his  orders." 

"I  see  there's  no  use  trying  to  talk  you  out  of  this. 
I  would  try  hard,  too,  if  I  thought  there  was  the 
least  use.  Some  things  are  difficult  to  do,  some  are 
impossible.  I  have  seen  few  difficult  things  put 
over;  once  in  a  while  one  gets  by.  But  of  the  others, 
never  a  one.  Take  the  advice  of  a  man  who  knows, 
Sam,  drop  it." 

"You  may  be  mistaken." 

"I  wouldn't  be  where  I  am  if  I  made  mistakes  of 
(139) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

this  kind.  You  know  when  to  pick  oranges  and 
when  to  plow.  You  aren't  guessing  at  what  you  do, 
you  know  your  business.  Credit  me  with  knowing 
mine." 

"All  right,  I  will.  You're  going  to  cooperate  with 
me  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  but  always  in  the  dark. 
You're  going  to  help  organize  the  public  demand. 
When  we're  through  you  will  have  Diester  in  a  hole. 
He  will  lose  favor  either  with  the  federal  bunch  or 
with  the  people  of  this  state.  In  which  case  there 
is  a  chance  that  Rutherford  White  may  step  into  his 
shoes." 

"Such  an  idea  has  never  entered  my  head." 
"Oh  yes  it  has,  for  I  just  put  it  there." 
Next  to  White  the  most  important  name  on  Coul- 
ters' list  was  Chandler  Young,  the  attorney  general. 
So  Sam  caught  a  train  for  the  state  capital.  White's 
letters,  both  the  formal  one  he  gave  Coulters  and 
the  confidential  one  he  forwarded  himself,  opened 
Young's  offi.ce  to  the  Rosarian. 

"The  difficulty  in  this  case,  Mr.  Coulters,"  Chan- 
dler Young  had  been  listening  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest to  the  plans  of  his  caller,  "is  that  we  can't  pass 
a  law  which  prohibits  all  aliens  from  owning  land 
in  California,  because  the  state  needs  outsiders  for 
its  development.  Nor  can  we  have  a  law  which 
discriminates,  as  you  well  know." 

"There  is  one  discrimination,  Mr.  Young,  estab- 
lished many  years  ago,  which  was  accepted  by  Japan 
before  she  became  so  militantly  sensitive  about  equal 
rights.     I  mean  the  fact  that  her  people  are  not 

(140) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

eligible  to  citizenship  here.  This  oversight  can't  be 
remedied  now,  for  Californians  will  tolerate  voting 
by  Japanese  no  more  than  intermarriage  with  them. 
Some  things  are  sacred  to  us.  I  am  going  to  ham- 
mer away  at  that  one  weak  spot,  and  I  want  you  to 
help  me  with  the  first  blow.  Can  you  frame  a  law 
which  will  prohibit  the  buying  or  leasing  of  land  by 
foreigners,  except  such  as  have  a  right  to  become 
naturalized?" 

"Certainly  I  can  draft  such  a  law." 

"In  such  a  way  that  it  will  comply  with  all  existing 
treaties  and  constitutional  provisions?" 

"I  wouldn't  want  to  say  yes  off  hand,  but  it  surely 
seems  to  me  that  I  could.  Suppose  you  come  around 
at  this  time  tomorrow.  I  will  look  up  the  law  and 
can  then  answer  you  definitely." 

When  Sam  returned  the  following  day  he  was 
handed  a  lengthy  typewritten  document.  It  was  the 
new  anti-alien  land  law,  approved  and  sanctioned  by 
Chandler  Young.  He  requested  Sam  to  regard  the 
participation  of  the  attorney  general's  office  as  a 
purely  confidential  matter,  for  there  might  be  a  good 
deal  of  criticism  aroused  if  the  facts  became  gener- 
ally known.  Sam  promised,  then  he  devoted  his 
attention  to  the  written  words.  The  interview  closed 
with  felicitations  on  both  sides,  on  one  for  the  per- 
fect manner  in  which  the  law  had  been  drawn,  on 
the  other  for  the  clever  way  in  which  it  had  been  con- 
ceived. 

"Now  to  get  it  passed,"  said  Sam. 

"I  have  drawn  it  just  as  carefully  as  though  I 
(141) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

were  to  go  before  the  supreme  court  tomorrow,  to 
defend  it.  But  it  can  never  become  a  law.  If  you 
were  on  the  inside  you  would  understand  how  im- 
possible it  is  for  state  politicians  to  disobey  the  big 
federal  patronage  givers,  and  you  know  as  well  as 
I  that  the  Japanese  government  will  persuade  the 
United  States  government  to  suppress  this." 

"It  has  to  be  backed  by  men  who  are  more  afraid 
to  let  go  than  to  hold  on.  You  and  White  have 
done  well.  Now  I'm  going  to  do  something  that 
neither  of  you  could  do." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Talk  to  the  farmers.  I'm  going  to  travel 
around  a  bit,  see  some  rural  editors,  some  state 
senators  and  assemblymen  who  live  in  the  country, 
and  some  people  who  have  been  having  the  same 
troubles  that  we  have  had  in  Eden  Valley." 

So  for  a  month  Sam  was  missing  from  his  accus- 
tomed haunts.  A  great  many  people  can  be  seen  in 
thirty  days,  and  if  they're  talked  to  convincingly  on 
a  subject  in  which  they  are  vitally  interested,  more 
than  a  few  will  turn  crusaders  themselves.  Sam 
Coulters  was  big  enough  to  have  dominated  such 
men  as  White,  Young,  Diester,  one  might  almost 
include  the  governor  of  the  state.  He  was  clever 
enough  to  know  whom  to  see;  his  honesty  of  pur- 
pose fairly  radiated;  his  enthusiasm  was  contagious. 
So  he  left  in  his  wake  hundreds  of  stirring  articles 
in  papers,  and  crusaders  and  disciples  of  all  degrees 
of  zeal,  who  in  turn  collected  followers  of  their  own. 

If  he  had  been  preaching  a  new  doctrine,  if  he 
(142) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

had  had  to  educate  or  overcome  scepticism,  his  suc- 
cess could  not  have  been  so  great.  But  he  only 
asked  people  to  act;  their  beliefs  were  already  estab- 
lished. He  did  not  have  to  persuade  the  editor  that 
the  Japanese  were  a  menace,  he  merely  had  to  sug- 
gest to  him  the  importance  of  the  matter  appearing 
more  drastically  in  his  paper.  There  was  no  miracle 
in  the  aroused  public  sentiment  that  followed  him 
through  the  state.  The  only  credit  he  was  willing 
to  accept  was  that  he  had  seen  the  opportunity,  and 
had  had  the  ability  to  start  the  movement.  Once 
there  had  been  furnished  a  definite  objective  upon 
which  to  concentrate,  support  came  from  every- 
where. 

California  is  a  large  state  with  many  interests. 
If  the  rural  districts  only  were  aroused  while  the 
cities  were  lethargic  there  would  not  be  the  universal 
sentiment  behind  this  legislation  which  would  be 
necessary  to  enable  it  to  weather  the  troubles  ahead. 
The  cities  are  notoriously  indifferent  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  country,  for  they  have  become  satiated 
with  complaints  and  tales  of  disasters.  So  Sam  cast 
about  to  find  some  means  of  interesting  the  urban 
people. 

His  first  work  was  among  the  labor  unions. 
These  are  composed  of  men  who  have  learned  from 
experience  more  than  from  study,  the  basic  economic 
truth  that  the  wages  of  the  unskilled  man  are  the 
smallest  that  will  keep  body  and  soul  together.  That 
the  laws  of  the  theorists  may  be  perverted  is  illus- 
trated by  the  fact  that  for  years  the  hod-carriers  of 

(143) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

San  Francisco  were  paid  six  dollars  for  an  eight 
hour  day.  To  accomplish  such  a  result  in  the  face 
of  Adam  Smith  and  John  Stuart  Mill  meant  an  ag- 
gressive insistence  upon  and  a  jealous  guarding  of 
every  claimed  prerogative.  The  extent  to  which 
this  was  carried  is  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  for 
a  long  time  concrete  construction  was  not  allowed  in 
San  Francisco,  for  the  simple  reason  that  building 
in  that  way  eliminated  both  hod-carrier  and  brick- 
layer. 

Unions  and  free  and  untrammelled  competition  in 
the  labor  markets  cannot  exist  side  by  side.  There 
is  a  constant  menace  to  the  artificial  conditions  estab- 
lished by  the  trade  combinations  in  the  existence  in 
the  community  of  a  body  of  unorganized  men.  The 
Japanese  could  not  be  absorbed,  their  starvation 
point  was  far  below  that  of  the  white  men,  and  they 
were  efficient. 

But  for  that  last  characteristic  they  might  have 
been  over-ridden.  The  great  golden  state  harbors 
many  races  of  workers  within  its  borders.  The 
Indian  and  the  Mexican  are  indigenous,  but  their 
shiftlessness  and  low  mental  development  have  pre- 
vented them  from  being  dangerous  competitors  in 
the  labor  market.  So  with  the  Hindus  and  many 
emigrants  from  the  southern  parts  of  Europe.  The 
man  in  the  ditch  is  not  a  menace  until  he  turns  ambi- 
tious eyes  towards  the  man  on  the  scaffold. 

Coulters  decided  to  have  missionary  work  done 
among  the  councils.  In  this  he  was  no  pioneer,  for 
one  of  the  commonest  tricks  in  politics  is  to  exploit 

(144) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

the  fears  and  ambitions  of  the  body  of  working  men. 
Sam  did  not  essay  this  task  himself.  He  knew 
where  his  weaknesses  lay,  as  well  as  his  talents.  It 
was  one  thing  to  meet  men  of  his  own  stamp,  of  the 
class  with  which  he  had  been  reared  and  which  he 
so  well  understood,  and  to  impress  them  through 
his  greater  knowledge  of  their  own  interests.  It 
was  another  to  fence  with  the  sharp  wits  and  special- 
ized training  that  had  brought  the  cleverest  mechan- 
ics out  of  the  ranks  and  into  positions  of  trust.  So 
Sam  fell  back  on  his  ally. 

Rutherford  White's  reception  was  in  the  nature 
of  an  ovation. 

"I've  not  done  anything  remarkable,"  protested 
Sam. 

"Well,  at  least  you  out-guessed  us  all.  You  are 
doing  great  work  for  me.  Diester  dare  not  openly 
oppose  you,  and  hasn't  been  able  to  hit  on  any  in- 
direct way  to  stop  you.  He's  so  badly  worried  that 
he  has  even  called  on  me  for  help.  In  the  east 
they're  taking  the  matter  calmly,  for  they  know 
they've  but  to  give  the  word  at  the  proper  time  for 
this  agitation  to  die  out.  They  know  their  own 
powers,  Sam.  You've  done  a  great  deal  more  than 
we  insiders  had  dreamed  was  possible,  you  have 
done  so  well  that  it  hurts  me  to  see  you  go  on  to  a 
certain  cropper.  You're  getting  to  be  a  big  man  in 
the  state,  Sam.  Cash  in  your  popularity  while  you 
have  it.  It's  always  negotiable  for  some  good  office, 
which  would  pay  a  salary  that  would  keep  the  Jap- 
anese question  from  ever  worrying  you." 

(145) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Thanks,  but  I'm  not  here  for  office.  I've  not 
finished  this  fight  by  any  means.  I  want  you  to  send 
some  right  smart  men  to  the  trades'  councils  of  the 
state,  to  work  them  up  as  I've  worked  up  the 
farmers.  Send  some  one  with  imagination  enough 
to  frighten  union  labor,  and  it  will  fall  in  line  just 
as  enthusiastically  as  agriculture  has  done." 

"I  will  do  that  much  for  you.  I  mean  for  you. 
Diester  is  in  so  deep  now  that  this  will  not  do  any 
particular  good  to  me.  Lord,  but  I  admire  your 
spirit!  Man  alive,  you  are  going  down  with  your 
flags  flying,  you  make  me  want  to  climb  aboard. 
All  that  keeps  me  from  doing  so  is  a  life  long  train- 
ing in  looking  after  myself.  The  legislature  meets 
before  long  now."  White  was  abruptly  steering 
away  from  his  dangerous  enthusiasm.  "What  are 
you  going  to  do  in  the  meantime?" 

"Mill  around  to  see  what  opposition  there  is  in- 
side the  state." 

"You'll  not  find  much.  They  say  that  large  em- 
ployers of  labor  want  Japanese  in  California,  but 
I  have  not  found  that  true.  No  one  seems  more 
thoroughly  to  dislike  the  Japanese  than  the  man 
who  employs  them  in  numbers." 

"How  about  those  who  feel  sorry  for  them? 
People  who  think  they  are  oppressed,  treated  with 
prejudice  and  unfairly,  who  want  them  to  have  every 
opportunity  to  develop  themselves?" 

"I  know  what  you  mean.  There  may  be  some 
such,  but  in  view  of  the  facts  they  cannot  be  numer- 
ous nor  can  they  hold  to  their  beliefs  with  much 

(146) 


COULTERS  STUMPS  THE  STATE 

determination.  Disregard  them,  and  stay  in  the 
back  country." 

"My  work  there  is  done.  The  more  I  can  make 
the  leaders  believe  that  this  awakening  is  spontane- 
ous in  themselves  the  more  enthusiastically  will  they 
proclaim  the  new  doctrine.  If  I  go  back  to  them 
again  I'll  weaken  the  whole  effect." 

"You're  right,  man,  you  always  seem  to  be  right. 
Are  you  going  to  your  farm  in  Rosario?" 

"I  have  the  hardest  work  of  all  ahead  of  me.  It's 
with  the  big  papers  in  the  city." 

"Why,  Sam,  you're  news.  They  will  print  any- 
thing you  say." 

"While  I'm  trying  to  make  them  preach.  But 
they'll  listen  to  me  now,  I  have  progressed  that  far." 

"I  wonder  how  it  is  that  Diester  lets  this  slide 
along  so  quietly.  I  would  have  expected  him  either 
to  scare  you  out  or  to  buy  you  off." 

"He  has  tried  both."   ' 


(147) 


CHAPTER  XII 

HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

TT  was  when  Dr.  Hollington  assumed  the  medical 
■■"  supervision  of  the  Cuyamaca  tribe  that  he  first 
became  interested  in  the  Indians.  He  had  known 
in  a  vague  way  that  there  were  several  thousand 
of  them  in  the  county,  practically  all  of  whom  lived 
on  reservations  where  they  were  housed  and  clothed 
and  fed  by  the  government.  He  had  seen  them  at 
intervals  in  the  streets  of  the  village,  had  frequently 
come  across  them  in  his  reading,  and  had  time  and 
again  heard  them  discussed  by  the  Rosarians.  The 
printed  descriptions  were  so  at  variance  with  the 
spoken  opinions  that  Robert  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  only  those  who  idealized  them  wrote  of  the 
aborigines,  while  those  who  talked  about  them  at  all 
were  impregnated  with  dislike. 

As  neither  from  his  own  casual  observation,  nor 
from  excessive  praise  or  prejudiced  condemnation 
could  the  doctor  secure  the  scientific  accuracy  which 
he  felt  necessary  to  an  intelligent  understanding  of 
the  Indian,  he  decided  to  make  a  study  at  first 
hand.  The  southwestern  tribes  had  been  so  long  in 
contact  with  civilization,  with  the  Spanish  padre  or 
the  American  settler,  that  the  evolution  through 
which  they  were  now  passing  would  undoubtedly  be 
revealed  by  history.     So  he  delved  into  books. 

He  learned  about  their  primeval  religion  and  cus- 
(148) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

toms,  but  as  their  god,  Chinigchinick,  had  carried 
into  oblivion  all  of  one  and  most  of  the  other, 
neither  of  those  things  could  have  much  influence  on 
living  representatives.  Once  a  great  factor  had 
been  war,  cruel,  treacherous  war  for  plunder,  but 
that,  too,  had  disappeared  generations  ago.  He 
learned  how  their  houses  had  been  built  of  limbs  of 
trees  interwoven  with  oak  leaves,  a  method  of 
construction  which,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  the 
greatest  cause  of  the  dying  out  of  the  race.  The 
food  had  included  every  living  thing  upon  which 
they  could  lay  their  hands,  save  only  the  rattlesnake 
and  the  bear.  Their  clothes  and  their  morals  had 
been  so  changed  by  contact  with  civilization  and  the 
church  that  ancient  history  and  tribal  traditions  were 
now  without  weight.  One  great  truth  history  did 
reveal,  that  of  all  the  native  races  of  the  two  Amer- 
icas, none  were  much  lower  in  the  scale  of  civiliza- 
tion than  the  immediate  ancestors  of  the  Cuyamacas. 

Armed  with  the  knowledge  he  had  gleaned  from 
the  printed  volumes,  Hollington  drove  to  the  reser- 
vation. It  consisted  of  some  thirty  homes,  scattered 
over  several  miles  of  a  narrow  valley.  These  were 
a  pastoral  people  in  a  country  where  bottom  land 
was  scarce  and  poor,  where  mountains  were  huge 
and  barren.  So  they  built  at  some  distance  from 
each  other,  according  to  the  size  and  shape  of  the 
fields  they  tilled. 

Only  the  ancient  river  bed  was  worthy  of  cultiva- 
tion. On  one  side  it  was  flanked  by  a  long,  inhospit- 
able ridge,  whose  steep  sides,  covered  from  foot  to 

(149) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

crest  with  dark,  impenetrable  scrub  oak  and  chap- 
paral,  were  awash  when  the  water  was  high.  From 
the  other  bank  the  land  rose  as  a  great,  sloping 
shelf,  smooth  and  brown  and  dry.  It  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  nothing  but  dusty,  thirsty  sage.  But 
a  closer  scrutiny  revealed  great  beds  of  chollas,  hid- 
den among  the  brush,  while  close  to  the  stony 
ground,  and  with  little  help  from  nature,  countless 
small  shrubs,  grasses,  miniature  cacti  and  aloes 
struggled  for  existence.  Bordering  the  edge  of  this 
rise  were  the  sides  of  the  mountain,  a  rangy  struc- 
ture so  gracefully  proportioned  that  the  pines  on  its 
summit  were  almost  a  paradox. 

Here  and  there  were  breaks  in  the  true  sweep 
from  stream  bed  to  hill.  Perhaps  it  was  a  ditch  cut 
by  water  coming  from  springs  among  the  timber, 
perhaps  a  ridge  running  out  from  the  mountain,  or 
even  a  butte  rising  without  excuse  near  the  edge  of 
the  dry  creek.  It  was  on  these  elevations  that  the 
Indians  had  settled,  their  inherited  habit  of  watching 
enemies  taking  them  to  points  from  which  they  could 
survey  the  valley,  rather  than  establishing  them  near 
the  scenes  of  their  work.  All  the  houses  faced  the 
valley  and  ran  parallel  with  it;  no  digger  Indian 
ever  willingly  built  with  more  depth  than  length,  or 
erected  an  addition  in  the  rear  when  it  was  prac- 
ticable to  build  on  the  side. 

The  typical  house  consisted  of  either  one  room 
or  two.  The  walls  were  of  adobe,  a  sun  baked 
native  clay.  So  poor  a  material  was  this,  and  so 
primitive  the  means  of  cementing  it,   that  even  a 

(150) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

single  story  required  construction  three  or  four  feet 
thick.  The  roofs  were  of  tule,  fastened  into  bun- 
dles and  laid  across  rough  rafters  cut  from  the 
branches  of  trees.  There  was  allowed  to  every 
room  one  door  and  one  window,  both  facing  the 
road.  The  doors  consisted  of  a  few  boards  crudely 
fastened  together,  the  windows  of  small  panes  of 
glass  seldom  intact.  Three  walls  were  blank  and 
there  was  no  provision  for  ventilation,  even  the  win- 
dow and  the  door  being  opened  only  when  necessary. 
Before  the  Spaniards  had  introduced  adobe  bricks 
the  Indians  had  formed  their  walls  of  interwoven 
oak  twigs,  through  which  the  wind  passed  freely. 
At  that  time  the  problem  had  been  to  protect  them- 
selves from  the  weather,  so  through  the  centuries 
there  had  become  ingrained  the  habit  of  closing 
everything  as  nearly  tight  as  possible.  This  habit 
persisting  after  walls  and  roofs,  under  Spanish  in- 
fluence, had  become  impervious  to  air,  was  the 
reason  why  tuberculosis  spread  so  rapidly  and  took 
such  a  terrible  toll  among  the  natives. 

To  Robert,  as  he  drove  through,  the  character- 
istics of  the  valley  seemed  to  be  heat  and  thirst,  its 
appropriate  inhabitants  coyotes  and  horned  toads 
slinking  through  the  brush  or  sunning  in  the  sand. 
Not  that  it  was  in  reality  too  warm,  not  but  that 
there  was  moisture  and  a  liberal  allotment  of  flora 
and  fauna.  It  was  the  coloring  and  the  season's 
accumulation  of  dust  and  the  chameleonlike  effort 
of  every  plant  and  animal  to  render  itself  inconspic- 
uous by  blending  with  the  surroundings,  that  gave 

(151) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

the  young  doctor  this  depressing  impression,  one 
that  was  possibly  exaggerated  by  his  mood  at  the 
moment.  The  habitations  of  the  Cuyamacas  were 
in  harmony  with  nature.  The  walls  were  a  dirty 
grey,  the  roofs  a  lifeless,  greyish  brown,  the  wood- 
work, whether  casements  or  primitive  farm  imple- 
ments, was  destitute  of  any  color  save  that  produced 
by  the  merciless  California  sun,  and  the  ground 
about  was  utterly  bare,  for  it  was  soaked  with  dish- 
water and  trampled  with  use  until  no  vestige  of 
grass,  hot  so  much  as  a  clod  of  earth  remained. 
Even  the  dried  oak  leaves  of  the  ramada  were  the 
color  of  death;  not  a  flower  or  a  garden  plant  was 
there  to  bring  relief. 

There  was  little  to  offset  this  monotonous  lack  of 
color,  and  the  only  break  in  architectural  regularity 
was  the  ramada.  This  was  made  with  a  light  frame 
cut  from  comparatively  straight  limbs,  and  covered 
with  oak  leaves  or  willow  branches.  It  was  of  the 
most  flimsy  construction  possible,  intended  only  to 
give  protection  from  the  sun.  It  was  used  in  the 
summer  as  a  covered  porch  would  have  been,  and  as 
an  outdoor  kitchen.  It  formed  a  cool  retreat  in  the 
heat  of  the  day,  a  fact  appreciated  no  more  by  man 
than  by  the  hordes  of  flies  that  were  propagated  in 
the  filth  surrounding  the  house.  The  first  of  the 
winter  storms  was  expected  to  carry  away  the 
ramada  when  it  cleaned  the  yard. 

Of  outside  ornaments  there  were  often  none  be- 
yond a  rattle  trap  buggy  with  an  old  set  of  harness 

(152) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

thrown  across  the  dash,  a  tiny  makeshift  chicken 
coop,  and  an  olla  or  two  holding  water  or  meal. 

Within  the  house  there  was  an  insufferable  feeling 
of  crowding.  For  five  people  to  occupy  one  room 
means  not  only  congestion  at  night  but  also  a  stuffi- 
ness lasting  through  the  day.  Not  more  than  one 
bed  could  be  accommodated.  Where  five  slept  could 
only  be  conjectured,  unless  Billy  Evans'  surmise 
were  accepted.  He  maintained  that  those  who  went 
to  sleep  first  were  carefully  moved  to  the  floor,  one 
after  another,  until  there  came  the  last  of  the  relay 
who  kept  the  couch  to  himself.  The  bedstead  was 
of  iron  only  occasionally;  usually  it  consisted  of  a 
wooden  frame  with  twine  or  rawhide  lacings  to  hold 
the  blankets.  The  pieces  of  furniture  were  old 
boxes,  used  as  tables,  chairs  or  cupboards  as  size  and 
shape  determined.  The  stove  and  extra  bedding 
were  somehow  crowded  in,  except  in  those  rare  cases 
where  the  camp  fire  was  built  on  the  floor,  without 
chimney  or  fireplace.  If  any  ornamenting  or  decor- 
ating was  attempted  at  all,  it  would  consist  of  some 
pictures  cut  from  a  magazine  and  pinned  on  the 
wall.  The  earthen  floor,  though  regularly  sprink- 
led, was  so  seldom  cleaned  that  the  accumulated 
filth  had  rendered  it  a  paradise  for  vermin.  In 
fact,  everything  about  the  dark  interior  was  dis- 
gusting, from  the  dirty,  ragged  comforters  to  the 
smells  that  betrayed  the  total  lack  of  sunshine. 

It  was  to  such  homes  as  these  that  Dr.  Holling- 
ton  had  undertaken  to  bring  the  latest  principles  of 
hygiene.    The  first  Indian  whom  he  went  to  see  was 

(153) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Florenzino,  policeman  of  the  tribe.  As  Robert  ap- 
proached the  hut  to  which  he  had  been  directed,  the 
sight  of  a  group  of  eight  or  ten  Indians  sheltered 
by  their  ramada  or  stretched  out  under  neighboring 
trees  gave  him  his  first  understanding  of  one  essen- 
tial difference  between  the  minds  of  the  white  man 
and  the  red.  To  us  a  house  is  both  home  and  shelter, 
to  them  it  is  but  shelter,  for  they  are  still  undomesti- 
cated  and  their  real  home  is  out  of  doors.  So  what 
would  be  intolerable  crowding  to  one  race  is  space 
abundant  to  the  other. 

A  closer  view  showed  four  adults  within  the 
ramada.  A  young  woman  was  peeling  and  slicing 
some  native  gourd,  throwing  the  pieces  into  an  iron 
pot;  two  other  women  and  a  man,  all  advanced  in 
years,  were  seated  facing  her  and  each  other.  In 
the  shadow  of  an  old  blue  gum  a  mattress  had  been 
flung,  on  which  lay  a  man  not  far  past  thirty.  Sev- 
eral children  from  two  to  ten  years  of  age  flitted 
about  at  play.  Excepting  two  nondescript  dogs 
snapping  at  the  flies  and  a  thin  old  horse  browsing 
to  the  very  walls  of  the  hut,  theirs  was  the  only  mo- 
tion in  the  picture,  and  that  was  slow,  quiet  and 
subdued. 

When  Hollington's  approach  was  observed,  the 
older  children  crowded  within  the  group,  and  the 
younger  ones  disappeared  into  the  hut.  No  other 
recognition  was  given  him,  not  a  word  was  spoken, 
not  as  much  as  a  face  was  turned  toward  him,  except 
by  the  children  who  stared  stolidly.  He  advanced 
to   the   younger   woman    and    spoke   to   her.      She 

(154) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

paused  in  her  work  long  enough  to  watch  him  while 
he  asked  for  Florenzino,  then  slowly  picked  out 
another  gourd  and  began  to  cut  off  the  rind.  Robert 
studied  her  for  a  moment,  not  knowing  exactly  how 
to  construe  her  conduct  nor  what  was  next  expected 
of  him.  Her  hair  was  coarse  and  straight,  the  black 
braids  were  twisted  across  her  forehead  and  fas- 
tened behind  her  head.  Her  complexion  was  so 
dark  as  to  be  between  the  African  and  the  typical 
copper  colored  Indian;  her  features  were  coarse  and 
heavy.  Her  nose  was  large,  as  broad  as  a  negro's, 
but  not  flattened.  Her  eyes  were  jet  black,  soft  and 
appealing,  but  neither  in  them  nor  on  her  face  lay 
any  expression  whatsoever.  Her  mouth  and  chin 
were  massive,  as  were  the  irregular  teeth  that 
showed  through  her  parted  lips.  The  table  by 
which  she  was  working  obstructed  the  view  of  her 
figure;  all  that  could  be  seen  was  a  cumbersome 
blouse,  spotted  and  faded  but  apparently  clean. 

Robert  spoke  to  her  again,  and  a  second  time 
she  laid  aside  her  work  while  he  was  talking.  He 
patiently  repeated  his  expression,  explaining  that  he 
had  come  from  Rosario  especially  to  see  Florenzino. 
When  he  had  finished,  the  girl  looked  at  him  intently 
for  a  moment,  then  there  flittered  across  her  a  face 
a  smile  that  was  almost  a  laugh,  an  expression  that 
combined  helplessness  with  superiority. 

"No  sabe,"  she  said. 

Robert,  in  desperation,  turned  toward  the  others, 
but  they  apparently  were  not  even  aware  of  his 
presence.     There  was  nothing  in  the  general  atmos- 

(155) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

phere  to  suggest  hostility  or  studied  rudeness,  nor 
was  there  any  reason  to  suspect  a  concerted  effort 
to  force  him  to  leave;  it  was  more  as  though  he 
were  struggling  to  accomplish  something  while  those 
near  by  were  scarcely  watching  him,  were  indifferent 
as  to  whether  he  should  succeed  or  not.  Then  the 
persistent  young  man  remembered  the  Indian 
schools,  so  he  turned  abruptly  to  the  oldest  child. 

"Can  you  tell  these  people  that  the  Great  White 
Father  sent  me  here  to  be  their  doctor,  and  that  I 
want  to  see  Florenzino?" 

The  little  girl  was  too  shy  to  answer,  even  if  she 
understood.  She  turned  to  her  mother,  who  was 
pouring  water  in  the  pot  of  sliced  gourds,  and  the 
latter  after  perhaps  half  a  minute  of  apparent  con- 
templation, asked: 

"You  are  the  doctor?" 

Her  question  was  almost  a  monotone,  what  slight 
accent  there  was  being  on  the  verb.  The  voice  was 
soft  and  far  away,  more  in  keeping  with  forests  and 
running  water  than  with  her  present  sordid  sur- 
roundings. She  evinced  no  embarrassment  over  be- 
traying a  knowledge  of  English,  for  to  her  it  was 
only  natural  and  proper  to  show  no  interest  unless 
there  were  some  prospective  benefit  to  herself.  Un- 
like most  primitive  people  she  seemed  to  have  no 
curiosity. 

"Where  is  Florenzino?"  Hollington  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  encouraged. 

She  pointed  across  the  valley  to  something  mov- 
(156) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

ing,  which  the  easterner  could  barely  distinguish  as 
a  small  cloud  of  dust. 

"He  is  coming,"  she  said  in  the  same  level  way. 

Robert  made  no  effort  to  continue  the  conversa- 
tion while  he  was  waiting.  His  attention  wandered 
to  the  cooking  and  eating  accessories,  as  far  as  he 
could  see  them  from  where,  he  stood.  The  pots  and 
pans,  the  china  and  the  knives  and  forks  and  spoons 
were  all  the  white  man's  products.  They  were  piti- 
fully few  in  number  and  of  the  coarsest  and  cheapest 
make.  Then  at  his  shoulder  came  the  slow,  deliber- 
ate voice  that  he  was  growing  to  like. 

"I  have  a  baby,"  it  said. 

"Where  is  it?" 

Again  came  a  pause  that  could  be  measured  by 
fractions  of  a  minute.     "In  the  house." 

"May  I  see  it?" 

Always  the  interval  of  silence,  and  then:  "The 
baby  is  sick." 

The  doctor  did  not  wait  for  persuasion,  but 
walked  into  the  hut,  with  the  mother  slowly  follow- 
ing. On  the  bed  lay  a  naked  infant  not  more  than 
six  weeks  old,  whose  wasted  body  and  pitiful  ex- 
pression would  have  told  anyone  that  it  was  dying. 
Malnutrition !  that  was  all.  An  older  child  was  sent 
to  the  store  for  condensed  milk  and  other  food, 
while  Robert  labored  with  the  mother  to  make  her 
understand  just  how  to  use  the  prescribed  medicine. 
He  took  the  pills  from  his  case  and  made  her  admin- 
ister them  under  his  guidance. 

Once  he  had  occasion  to  step  to  the  door  to  obtain 
(157) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

a  better  light  on  the  child's  face.  There  sat  the 
three  old  people,  as  placid  as  ever.  They  had  sur- 
prised him  by  not  crowding  into  the  room  when  he 
first  went  to  the  baby,  they  shocked  and  angered  him 
by  not  questioning  the  mother  who  stood  by  him  on 
the  threshold,  or  even  trying  to  read  some  message 
on  his  face  or  hers.  It  was  his  first  experience  with 
their  animal-like  patience,  the  first  time  it  was 
brought  home  to  him  that  an  hour  or  two  makes  no 
difference  to  them  under  any  ordinary  circumstances. 

When  he  had  finished  his  work  and  had  come  out 
of  doors,  Florenzirio  was  waiting.  The  policeman 
was  a  splendid  specimen  of  the  physical  Indian.  Five 
feet  ten  inches  in  height,  a  hundred  and  ninety 
pounds  in  weight,  with  a  massive  head,  immense 
torso  and  shoulders,  arms  of  unusual  length,  hips 
so  narrow  that  they  hardly  broke  the  straight  line 
from  shoulder  to  ankle,  small  hands  and  feet,  and 
the  poise  of  an  athlete,  such  were  Robert's  first  im- 
pressions. The  four  natives  had  been  talking  to 
each  other  in  voices  which  had  carried  the  short  dis- 
tance to  where  the  baby  lay.  Their  words  were 
softer  far  than  English  would  have  been  in  the  same 
mouths,  for  the  Indian  language  seems  to  be  an  at- 
tempt to  imitate  the  sounds  of  nature.  If  the  wind 
be  mentioned,  or  a  bird  or  a  stream,  there  is  an 
effort  to  make  the  tones  force  the  listener  to  visual- 
ize the  picture. 

Florenzino  manifested  none  of  the  indifference 
that  the  others  had  shown.  He  recognized  the  im- 
portance to  the  tribe  of  proper  medical  care,  and 

(158) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

he  was  perfectly  willing  to  meet  half  way  anything 
that  promised  to  be  for  his  own  advantage.  Fur- 
thermore, he  gloried  in  the  proffered  opportunity  to 
assume  the  parental  role  and  to  display  his  author- 
ity, for  on  him  had  fallen  the  mantle  of  the  once 
powerful  but  now  departed  chiefs.  Undoubtedly 
he  had  been  interested  in  the  conversation  with  his 
compatriots  and  he  had  proven  that  he  was  pleased 
to  have  Hollington  present;  yet  his  remarks,  pithy 
though  they  were,  resembled  in  marked  degree  those 
of  his  wife,  for  they  were  short,  curt,  and  came  only 
at  intervals.  The  results  were  satisfactory  to  both 
men;  the  doctor  told  how  he  could  be  reached,  what 
hours  were  most  convenient,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances he  should  be  summoned,  while  Florenzino 
conveyed  the  impression  that  all  the  other  Indians 
were  his  charges,  that  he  was  zealous  in  his  care 
of  them,  and  was  in  a  position  to  exact  implicit 
obedience. 

One  picture  of  the  day  left  such  a  pleasant  impres- 
sion that  Robert  was  glad  to  store  it  in  his  memory. 
It  was  of  Carlotta,  Florenzino's  mother.  She  was 
seated  in  an  open  field,  without  cover  or  shelter  of 
any  kind,  not  even  a  shawl  over  her  head.  Before 
her  was  spread  a  canvas,  on  which  had  been  thrown 
the  freshly  harvested  beans.  These  had  been 
crushed  free  from  the  pods,  but  pods,  stalks,  leaves 
and  beans  formed  one  pile  together.  The  old  lady 
held  in  her  hand  a  flat,  saucershaped  basket  of  her 
own  weave,  which  from  time  to  time  she  half  filled 
with  beans  and  chaff,  and  then  by  throwing  the  con- 

(159) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

tents  a  foot  or  so  in  the  air,  and  deftly  catching  them 
again,  she  separated  one  from  the  other.  Now  and 
then  a  few  vigorous  shakes  were  necessary  to  bring 
to  the  surface  the  larger  pieces  of  leaves  or  stems, 
but  practically  all  the  cleaning  was  done  by  the  mo- 
notonous process  of  toss  and  catch.  Through  the 
long  summer  day  she  had  worked  incessantly,  as  was 
shown  by  the  pile  of  chaff  on  her  right,  and  on  her 
left  the  large  olla  containing  half  a  bushel  or  more 
of  clean  frijoles. 

Acting  on  impulse,  Robert  crossed  the  field  and 
spoke  to  her.  Florenzino,  following,  explained  the 
purposes  of  the  visitor,  so  she  smiled  a  welcome. 
Robert  instinctively  took  off  his  hat,  for  he  recog- 
nized the  presence  of  an  aristocrat.  As  old  she  was 
at  fifty  as  are  our  women  at  eighty,  wrinkled  in, 
face  and  bloated  in  body,  squatting  cross-legged 
with  her  knees  touching  her  ankles  and  her  stomach 
resting  on  her  thighs,  draped  in  the  oldest,  cheapest, 
most  faded  of  cotton  goods,  yet  there  was  in  her 
bright  black  eyes,  her  straight  delicate  nose,  her 
small  shapely  hands  and  the  atmosphere  with  which 
she  surrounded  herself,  something  that  made  her 
personality  superior  to  her  environment.  So 
strongly  did  like  speak  to  like  across  the  gap  of 
breeding,  language,  and  race  that  the  whole  Indian 
people  rose  in  the  doctor's  estimation,  and  his  first 
opinion  that  they  were  little  better  than  beasts  under- 
went a  revision. 

He  mused  on  the  situation  as  he  went  home,  his 
first   impressions   battling  with  his   last.      Another 

(160) 


HOLLINGTON  VISITS  THE  INDIANS 

aspect  obtruded  itself,  that  while  these  people  out- 
numbered the  Japanese  four  or  five  to  one,  they 
were  not,  and  never  could  become,  such  factors  in 
the  general  economic  life.  And  Hollington  remem- 
bered stories  he  had  heard  from  well  informed 
persons  about  the  Indian's  selfishness  and  complete 
lack  of  gratitude.  He  knew  these  tales  were  true, 
and  that  he  had  set  himself  a  hard  task  in  trying  to 
win  from  them  a  friendship  that  would  be  true. 


(161) 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Frances  Goes  to  San  Clemente 

f~\NE  evening,  when  Sam  came  in  for  supper  he 
^•"f  handed  Frances  a  letter.  The  handwriting 
was  unknown  to  her,  so  she  carefully  looked  it  over 
before  opening  an  envelope  that  was  addressed  in  a 
decidedly  feminine  hand  and  bore  a  slight  trace  of 
perfume. 

"My  Dear  Miss  Coulters:"  she  read.  "You  undoubtedly 
will  be  surprised  by  receiving  this  note  from  a  total  stranger. 
When  I  tell  you  however  that  Edward  Winfield  is  my 
brother,  you  will  readily  understand  that  I  have  learned  to 
regard  you  as  an  old  friend,  through  hearing  of  the  many 
lovely  things  you  have   done  for  him. 

"He  is  very  close  to  me,  far  more  so  than  are  most  broth- 
ers to  their  sisters.  I  am  anxious  to  meet  the  young  lady 
who  has  more  than  once  saved  his  life,  he  tells  me,  to  meet 
her  and  to  see  if  I  cannot  give  her  a  little  pleasure  in  return. 

"I  am  at  the  Hotel  San  Clemente  for  the  season.  Some 
guests  of  mine  are  leaving  the  latter  part  of  this  month,  so 
any  time  after  the  first  I  should  be  delighted  if  you  would 
come  down  to  visit  me  for  three  weeks.  I  live  very  quietly  here, 
but  I  have  been  coming  for  years,  and  so  know  a  great  many 
people  who  will  enjoy  helping  me  give  you  a  good  time. 

"Please  do  not  disappoint  me.  If  you  are  half  as  nice  as 
Edward  says  you  are,  and  he  is  pretty  critical,  I  will  be  the 
one  to  derive  most  of  the  pleasure  from  your  visit. 

"I  saw  Edward  in  Denver.  The  doctors  thought  it  best 
for  me  not  to  stay  more  than  a  day  or  two.  He  seems  to  be 
a  little  more  than  holding  his  own.  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
him  when  I  see  you. 

"With  the  pleasantest  anticipations, 

Helen  M.  Charleton. 

'P.  S. — Do  not  be  foolish  about  anything.  Come!" 
(162) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

"It's  one  of  the  loveliest  letters  I  have  ever  had," 
said  Frances,  handing  it  to  her  mother,  who  read  it 
aloud. 

"This  will  be  a  splendid  thing  for  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Coulters. 

"Mother,  I  can't  possibly  go." 

"Why  not?" 

"Clothes,  for  one  thing.  My  duties  here  for 
another." 

"You  haven't  been  a  bit  well,  Frances.  Your 
health  is  the  most  important  consideration.  We  can 
make  you  the  few  simple  dresses  that  are  all  that 
will  be  expected  of  you." 

"No,  mother,  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"But  you  must." 

"Must?"  said  the  father.  "You  surely  aren't  go- 
ing to  send  the  child  against  her  will." 

"Yes,  I  am.  Her  apathy  is  just  an  added  reason. 
Do  you  think  it  natural  for  a  girl  of  her  age,  raised 
as  she  has  been,  not  to  be  wild  with  excitement  over 
an  opportunity  like  this?  She  needs  change  to  break 
her  lethargy  and  put  red  blood  in  her  veins." 

"I  wash  my  hands  of  it;  you  two  will  have  to 
settle  the  matter." 

"Of  course,  I  will  go  if  mother  really  wants  me 
to." 

Mrs.  Charleton,  in  her  limousine,  met  the  train 
that  had  brought  Frances  in  from  the  country.  It 
was  a  half  hour's  drive  to  the  hotel,  a  half  hour 
spent  by  Mrs.  Charleton  in  putting  at  ease  the  shy- 
est, sweetest  bit  of  humanity  she  had  ever  known. 

(163) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Arriving  at  the  hotel,  they  dressed  for  dinner. 
Frances  apologized  for  her  evening  gown  which, 
by  the  way,  was  the  only  one  she  had  ever  had. 

"Never  mind,  my  dear,  your  gown  is  simple,  but 
you  can  wear  it.  You  will  see  women  in  the  dining 
room  who  would  give  anything  on  earth  for  a  com- 
plexion like  yours.    Have  you  never  used  powder?" 

"Shall  I  get  some?" 

"Heavens  no,  not  with  your  skin.  Let's  go  down 
stairs  now.     I  don't  like  to  keep  the  Weymouths." 

"Are  they  to  have  supper  with  us?" 

"We  dine  with  them  tonight." 

This  was  the  first  of  the  series  of  formal  dinners 
Frances  attended.  Their  breakfasts  were  often 
served  in  their  rooms;  at  noon  she  and  Mrs.  Charle- 
ton  habitually  sat  alone,  but  not  once  did  they  do 
so  in  the  evening. 

Frances'  frame  was  shaking  with  nervousness  as 
she  left  the  elevator  for  the  initial  meal.  In  the 
lobby  she  had  to  go  through  the  ordeal  of  meeting 
her  hosts  and  such  of  the  guests  as  had  arrived. 
She  was  glad  that  others  joined  them  during  the 
introductions,  for  in  the  confusion  she  lost  some  of 
her  self-consciousness. 

She  had  hardly  had  time  to  recuperate  from  the 
first  feeling  of  awe  before  she  found  herself  walk- 
ing into  the  dining  room,  with  Mr.  Winslow  on  her 
left.  There  were  couples  in  front,  couples  behind, 
as  the  file  crossed  the  crowded  room  to  a  table  under 
the  windows.  Not  knowing  what  was  expected  of 
her  Frances  merely  kept  her  place  in  the  line.    Look- 

(164) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

ing  about  she  saw  the  arched  ceiling  of  a  room  such 
as  her  imagination  had  never  conceived.  It  was  as 
high  as  any  house  in  Rosario,  as  large  as  any  farm- 
yard, decorated  with  a  profusion  of  hanging  lights 
and  draperies  and  potted  plants.  There  were  on 
every  table  candelabra  which  served  both  to  throw 
into  shadows  myriads  of  white  gowned  waitresses, 
and  to  illuminate  the  faces  of  the  guests.  The  most 
of  these,  so  it  seemed  to  her,  were  hard,  tired  faces, 
the  older  critical,  the  younger  supercilious. 

"Why  is  it  all  are  so  solemn,  Mrs.  Winslow? 
People  come  to  a  pleasure  resort  to  have  a  good 
time,  yet  I  have  scarcely  seen  a  smile  in  all  this 
crowd." 

Winslow  repeated  this  remark  after  their  seats 
had  been  found  and  the  party  settled.  Frances  then 
heard  some  of  the  laughter  she  had  missed,  but  she 
was  not  sorry,  for  there  was  no  mistaking  the  good 
nature  that  admitted  that  the  joke  was  on  them- 
selves. Still  she  felt  that  she  must  be  careful,  so 
she  avoided  the  more  or  less  general  efforts  to  draw 
her  out  again. 

She  worked  her  way  through  the  bewildering  ar- 
ray of  silver,  and  many  other  pitfalls,  by  the  simple 
process  of  holding  back  to  watch  others.  She  her- 
self spoke  but  seldom,  yet  she  was  a  very  easy  per- 
son to  talk  to,  as  Winslow  and  Lieutenant  Cutshaw, 
who  also  sat  beside  her,  were  not  slow  to  discover. 
Everything  was  new  to  her,  and  she  frankly  showed 
her  interest  in  whatever  was  being  told. 

The  episode  that  most  embarrassed  Frances  came 
(165) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

at  the  outset  with  the  caviar  and  the  cocktails.  Mrs. 
Charleton,  covertly  watching  from  across  the  table, 
saw  Frances  imitatively  raise  the  glass,  and  real- 
ized with  something  of  a  shock  that  this  young  girl 
had  never  tasted  liquor,  perhaps  had  never  seen 
anyone  drink  it.  Though  the  elder  woman  herself 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do,  she  did  not  shirk 
her  obligation  to  help  Frances  through  this  dilemma. 

"I  wouldn't  drink  anything  if  I  were  you,"  Mrs, 
Charleton  began  blindly,  trusting  to  tact  and  expe- 
rience to  bring  her  through.  "You  don't  need  the 
stimulant,  so  I  will  not  allow  you  to  lose  any  of 
your  freshness  while  you  are  under  my  care."  Fran- 
ces put  down  her  glass  with  a  too  transparent  relief. 

The  long  course  dinner  bewildered  the  country 
girl.  The  wine  and  the  cordials,  she  could  readily 
perceive,  added  to  the  gaiety  of  the  party,  and 
the  cigarette  smoking  by  members  of  her  own  sex 
was  not  at  all  confined  to  her  own  table.  Such 
things  were  not  for  her;  she  would  neither  indulge 
in  them  nor  pass  criticism  upon  them. 

After  the  demi-tasse  they  all  went  to  the  ball- 
room, and  found  comfortable  seats  behind  the  rail 
that  separated  the  dancing  floor  from  the  specta- 
tors' gallery.  Winslow  at  once  took  Frances  out 
to  one-step,  wondering  what  kind  of  a  partner  he 
would  have  in  this  farmer's  daughter.  He  did  not 
attempt  to  conceal  from  her  his  pleasure  when  he 
found  he  was  with  one  of  the  best  natural  dancers 
he  had  ever  known.  She  could  not  follow  his  lead 
if  he  tried  anything  but  the  most  conventional  steps, 

(166) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

the  ones  that  Robert  Hollington  had  taught  her. 
But  those  she  did  exquisitely.  Light  as  a  feather 
in  his  arms,  she  had  an  ease,  a  grace,  an  intuitive 
knowledge  of  what  he  was  about  to  do,  that  he 
had  never  before  encountered  in  an  amateur.  Na- 
tive ability  coupled  with  an  inborn  love  of  the  art 
could  offset  instruction  and  practice  when  carried 
to  the  point  of  satiety.  Dragging  tired  feet  through 
the  same  routine  night  after  night  under  artificial 
stimulant  stiffens  muscles  and  collects  a  heavy  tax 
on  suppleness.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  in 
Robert  she  had  a  teacher  who  had  carried  her  far 
in  the  past  year. 

Long  before  the  midnight  closing  Frances'  fame 
had  spread  through  the  room.  Mrs.  Weymouth, 
proud  of  her  guest,  and  Mrs.  Charleton,  who  felt 
it  no  small  honor  to  be  cicerone  to  one  of  the  best 
dancers  the  hotel  had  ever  boasted,  were  besieged 
with  requests  for  introductions.  When  the  soft 
strains  of  "Home  Sweet  Home"  echoed  through  the 
room,  and  she  saw  that  the  gathering  of  wraps  and 
the  preparations  to  leave  had  become  general,  Fran- 
ces felt  that  there  had  come  to  a  close  one  of  the 
signal  evenings  of  her  life. 

But  a  surprise  lay  in  store  for  her.  "We  are 
going  downstairs  to  the  grill  for  a  little  while,"  said 
Mrs.  Charleton.  So  down  they  went,  to  find  them- 
selves once  more  seated  about  a  table.  The  Wey- 
mouths  still  were  hosts,  though  the  personnel  of  the 
party  had  undergone  no  little  change  through  addi- 
tions and  deflections. 

(167) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

A  chance  remark  that  Frances  had  overheard, 
while  they  were  waiting  for  the  refreshments,  had 
thrown  her  into  a  brown  study.  Mrs.  Weymouth 
was  speaking  to  the  retired  general  across  the  board: 

"Have  you  noticed  what  a  thoroughly  nice  crowd 
of  young  people  there  are  at  the  San  Clemente  this 
season?  A  ballroom  often  strikes  me  as  having  a 
conglomerate  face;  sometimes  that  face  repels,  as 
do  typical  cabaret  singers.  More  often  it  is  hum- 
drum and  common,  like  the  people  on  the  streets. 
It  is  not  often  that  it  has  appealed  to  me  as  strongly 
as  it  does  tonight,  reflecting  the  best  of  our  Ameri- 
can youth." 

Winslow,  who  had  not  relinquished  the  rights 
that  came  with  the  fortunate  chance  by  which  he  had 
first  drawn  her  as  a  dinner  partner,  broke  into  her 
reverie : 

"Now  what  direction  are  your  thoughts  taking?" 
he  asked. 

"If  I  tell  you,  you'll  repeat  it,  and  then  you  will 
all  laugh  at  me." 

"On  my  honor,  I'll  not  tell  a  soul." 

"I  was  just  amusing  myself  thinking  how  much 
younger  the  people  are  getting  as  the  evening  grows 
older.  When  we  went  into  the  dining-room  it 
seemed  as  though  everyone  were  well  on  into  middle 
age;  in  the  ballroom  people  were  lots  younger,  and 
now  in  the  grill  I  don't  feel  like  a  child  any  more." 

"There  certainly  is  a  different  spirit  here,"  said 
Winslow.  "As  you  say,  the  older  people  are  drop- 
ping out.     But  it's  not  that  alone;  upstairs  is  a  sort 

(168) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

of  public  place,  downstairs  we  feel  that  it's  all  among 
ourselves,  more  like  a  club.  Besides,  everyone  has 
been  drinking  all  the  evening,  and  naturally  that 
makes  a  difference." 

Frances  shuddered. 

"You  little  prude !"  laughed  Winslow.  "If  night 
after  night  you  did  any  one  thing,  even  your  enthu- 
siasm would  be  dulled  in  time.  There  is  hardly 
anyone  here  who  has  had  too  much;  a  little  to  stir 
up  the  circulation  may  be  bad  for  the  health,  but  it 
is  nothing  to  shock  one.  Here  is  that  lieutenant 
again;  he  is  beginning  to  become  a  nuisance." 

The  space  in  the  grill  reserved  for  dancing  was 
limited.  By  the  time  a  dozen  tables  had  been  put 
in  position,  and  places  found  for  a  piano  and  the 
musicians,  more  than  half  of  the  room  was  gone. 
This  intimate  crowding  of  music,  spectators,  and 
dancers  resulted  in  an  informality  which  relieved 
Frances  of  the  features  of  the  evening  which  had 
oppressed  her  most,  the  style  and  hugeness  of  it  all. 

Every  one  of  the  hundred  and  more  people  in  the 
room  seemed  to  know  every  one  else.  They  formed 
a  cosmopolitan  group,  which  owed  its  existence  to 
the  ease  with  which  it  absorbed  the  new  comers  that 
pleased  it.  Frances  was  well  received  on  Mrs. 
Charleton's  account  at  first,  but  afterwards  on  her 
own.  The  hours  slipped  by;  it  was  after  three  when 
the  festivities  were  ended  by  the  refusal  of  the  or- 
chestra to  be  cajoled  into  playing  any  longer. 

On  the  way  to  their  rooms  Mrs.  Charleton  slipped 
her  arm  about  her  guest. 

(169) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I'm  proud  of  you,  little  girl,  proud  of  you  in 
every  way.  You've  made  this  an  unusually  pleasant 
evening  for  me." 

"Have  I  really?  It  required  so  much  of  your 
attention  to  introduce  me  and  watch  over  me  that 
I'm  afraid  I've  kept  you  from  having  a  good  time." 

"That  is  what  gave  one  to  me.  Besides,  all  my 
work  was  done  when  you  met  my  friends ;  was  there 
one  of  them  who  didn't  come  back  for  a  second 
dance?  I  notice  that  you  didn't  miss  once;  you 
seemed  to  be  engaged  five  or  six  deep  most  of  the 
night." 

Frances  slept  late  that  morning.  She  had  been 
told  that  she  was  to  breakfast  alone,  either  in  her 
room  or  downstairs  as  she  chose.  She  decided,  after 
some  hesitation,  that  the  dining  room  where  she  had 
already  been  was  less  terrifying  than  the  unknown 
mysteries  attending  the  summoning  of  a  maid. 

Her  meal  finished,  she  walked  through  the  lobby, 
deserted  by  all  but  clerks  and  call  boys,  and  then 
through  the  equally  empty  gardens.  Everything 
was  so  large,  herself  so  insignificantly  small.  Out 
into  the  ocean  ran  a  pier;  to  the  end  of  this  she 
went.  Again  the  proportions  had  to  be  adjusted. 
The  Pacific  was  so  immense,  so  unchanging  and  per- 
manent, while  the  hotel  grounds,  the  San  Clemente 
itself  with  all  it  stood  for  and  contained — 

"The  sky  dwarfs  the  ocean  too,"  she  mused.  "I 
won't  moralize  any  more;  I'm  going  to  have  as 
good  a  time  as  I  can  while  I'm  here,  without  giving 
another  thought  to  what  it  all  means." 

(170) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

She  was  presently  seated  on  the  beach,  watching, 
with  the  interest  of  an  inland  dweller,  the  huge 
breakers  lazily  rolling  in,  the  sea  fowl  maintaining 
their  vigilant  patrol. 

"Here's  a  great  piece  of  luck."  It  was  the  cheer- 
ful voice  of  the  lieutenant,  who  had  so  bothered 
Winslow  the  evening  before.  "How  would  you  like 
to  go  up  in  the  air?" 

"What  a  dream!"  Here  eyes  were  on  a  gull  that 
was  gracefully  circling  a  suspected  movement  in  the 
water  below. 

"This  is  no  dream.  Did  no  one  tell  you  that 
I'm  an  aviator?"  Lieutenant  Stone  held  out  his 
hand.  "Come,  I'll  take  you  for  a  ride.  I  particu- 
larly wanted  a  passenger  this  morning." 

Frances  was  easily  persuaded.  Soon  she  was 
seated  in  the  first  aeroplane  she  had  ever  seen. 
With  a  terrific  roar  the  propeller  started  to  drive 
the  plane ;  then  suddenly  the  land  began  to  fall  away 
from  beneath  her.  The  next  half  hour  was  the  most 
thrilling  that  she  had  ever  spent.  The  sensation  of 
motion  was  replaced  with  the  illusion  that  she  was 
suspended  in  space,  while  far  beneath  her  a  little 
model  of  the  world  slipped  by  in  panorama,  a  little 
model  that  showed  the  roofs  of  houses,  the  tops 
of  trees,  the  white  crests  of  breakers,  the  decks  of 
vessels. 

On  the  way  back  from  the  hangars  Stone  talked 
of  tennis  and  golf.  Frances  barely  knew  what  he 
meant.  She  was  still  so  excited  from  her  ride  that 
she  could  not  keep  her  mind  on  what  he  was  saying. 

(171) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Nevertheless,  a  curious  little  pang  shot  through  her, 
a  feeling  that  after  all  she  was  really  not  a  part  of 
this  life  came  to  her,  as  they  were  passed  time  and 
again  by  automobiles  filled  with  men  and  women  in 
golfing  clothes,  bound  for  the  Country  Club. 

By  the  time  the  pair  reached  the  hotel,  Stone  had 
extracted  from  Frances  a  promise  to  fly  with  him 
frequently,  if  Mrs.  Charleton  approved.  That  lady, 
when  consulted,  did  object,  but  not  so  seriously  as 
to  prevent  the  making  of  another  engagement. 

Lieutenant  Stone  took  Frances  to  the  Country 
Club  and  explained  some  of  the  mysteries  of  golf. 
When  they  wearied  of  that  they  strayed  over  to 
the  courts,  where  they  watched  the  progress  of  a 
tennis  tournament  until  it  was  time  to  meet  Mrs. 
Charleton  again. 

At  noon  everyone  was  at  the  bath  house.  Frances 
had  learned  to  swim  in  the  reservoirs  of  Rosario, 
so  she  did  not  have  to  be  a  mere  spectator  here. 
Her  stroke  was  a  very  natural  one,  easy  and  grace- 
ful. She  tried  it  in  the  plunge,  in  the  bay  and  in 
the  ocean,  and  was  delighted  with  the  buoyancy  of 
salt  water.  Among  those  who  had  helped  close  the 
grill  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  was  Winslow, 
now  giving  a  pretty  exhibition  of  fancy  diving.  He 
took  the  girl  in  hand,  initiated  her  into  the  mysteries 
of  the  spring  board,  the  rings,  and  the  slide.  It 
was  a  curious  commentary  on  human  nature  that  she 
who  had  faced,  without  a  tremor,  the  unknown  dan- 
gers and  dizzy  heights  of  aeroplaning,  was  white 

(172) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

with  fear  when  first  she  looked  down  the  slide  and 
realized  that  she  must  force  herself  to  use  it. 

Luncheon  followed  the  bath.  Mrs.  Charleton 
and  Frances  were  alone  for  the  first  time  that  day, 
and  what  a  series  of  experiences  and  impressions 
the  girl  did  have  to  relate.  She  easily  allowed  her- 
self to  be  drawn  out,  while  Mrs.  Charleton,  revel- 
ling in  the  naivete  of  the  recital,  didn't  check  it  by 
disputing  any  point  of  view,  or  by  showing  amuse- 
ment at  comparisons  with  Eden  Valley. 

A  polo  game  was  scheduled  between  the  local 
team  and  one  from  Riverside.  So  promptly  at  three 
o'clock  these  two,  together  with  Mrs.  Weymouth 
and  Mrs.  General  Harris  as  guests,  took  their 
places  in  Mrs.  Charleton's  open  car,  and  drove  to 
a  space  reserved  for  them  by  the  side  of  the  playing 
field.  On  either  side  were  other  cars,  filled  with 
faces  that  were  rapidly  becoming  familiar.  There 
was  a  chattering  back  and  forth,  a  promiscuous  in- 
termingling among  the  various  parties,  while  the 
passing  on  foot  of  others  added  greatly  to  the  con- 
fusion and  the  hilarity. 

It  was  here  that  Fances  conceived  the  idea  which 
later,  in  the  club  house,  grew  upon  her,  that  these 
people  who  had  been  so  good  to  her,  who  were  so 
cordial  and  hospitable  among  themselves,  did  not 
recognize  any  obligation  to  humanity  in  general. 
After  the  first  period,  instead  of  giving  her  atten- 
tion to  the  game,  for  she  saw  little  more  in  it  than 
eight  mounted  men  striking  or  missing  a  wooden 
ball,  she  fell  to  studying  the  people,  amused  to  find 

(173) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

that  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  her  awe  of  them 
had  disappeared.  She  noticed  that  she  herself  was 
even  becoming  a  little  critical,  wondering  why  cer- 
tain persons  had  been  taken  in  while  others  had 
been  left  out,  trying  to  formulate  in  her  mind  some 
standard  which  must  be  met  before  one  could  be 
accepted. 

Tea  was  served  by  the  club  immediately  after  the 
game.  Here  it  was  that  the  players  mixed  with  the 
spectators,  and  with  a  few  golf  enthusiasts  who 
would  not  desert  their  own  game  to  attend  another's. 
Frances  watched  the  gorgeously  gowned  women 
group  themselves  at  tables,  either  in  the  main  room 
or  on  the  veranda.  She  came  to  a  conclusion,  which 
she  later  verified,  that  even  within  the  charmed  cir- 
cle of  those  who  had  passed,  there  were  cliques  and 
rings  and  fringes;  also  that  one's  position  became 
more  apparent  in  the  tea  room  than  elsewhere. 

That  evening  Mrs.  Charleton  took  her  protege 
to  dinner  on  a  battle-ship  anchored  in  the  harbor. 
Once  again  the  girl  became  a  sightseer,  as  willing 
guides  took  her  the  length  and  breadth  of  that  great 
iron  hull,  down  winding  stairs  or  into  turrets,  until 
she  had  seen  everything  from  the  huge  cannon  to 
the  jackies'  mess.  After  dinner  came  dancing  on 
a  covered  after  deck,  to  the  music  of  the  fleet's  band. 
The  spell  of  the  ocean  was  in  the  air,  while  on  the 
open  water  of  the  bay  twinkled  the  lights  of  the  city 
and  of  passing  ships. 

Another  day  had  passed,  filled  with  pleasure,  with 
never  an  idle  moment  nor  a  chance  to  be  bored. 

(174) 


FRANCES  GOES  TO  SAN  CLEMENTE 

So  two  crowded  weeks  slipped  by,  time  enough  in 
that  shifting  medley  to  make  Frances  one  of  the 
company.  She  had  acquired  the  habit  of  sleeping 
till  nearly  noon;  she  had  even  been  prevailed  upon 
to  use  some  of  her  hostess's  clothes,  which  that 
thoughtful  lady  had  altered  slightly  to  suit.  There 
had  been  moments  of  homesickness,  and  many  times 
Frances  had  to  remind  herself  of  the  resolution 
made  that  first  morning  on  the  pier.  But  she  was 
having  a  happy  time ;  how  could  she  have  helped  it, 
who  was  rapidly  becoming  the  belle  of  the  San  Cle- 
mente  colony? 

It  was  at  luncheon  that  she  was  made  to  realize 
that  after  all  life  is  a  serious  matter.  She  had  been 
watching  the  Pacific,  the  friend  who  never  tired  her, 
while  relating,  in  her  fascinating  way,  details  of  the 
morning  play.  She  had  been  asking,  too,  about  the 
Pembertons,  the  great  New  York  Pembertons, 
whose  dinner-dance  that  evening  was  to  be  the  event 
of  the  season. 

Hardly  aware  that  there  had  been  a  lull  in  her 
prattle,  she  was  recalled  by  the  voice  of  her  hostess. 

"How  would  you  like  to  live  with  me  perma- 
nently?" 

Frances  was  too  startled  to  reply. 

"We'll  not  discuss  it  now."  Though  Mrs.  Charle- 
ton,  to  protect  herself,  had  risen  from  the  table,  she 
still  betrayed  more  feeling  than  Frances  had  ever 
seen  in  her.  "Tomorrow  you  and  I  will  breakfast 
in  my  room,  and  talk  it  over." 

(175) 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Coulters  Gets  His  Land  Law 

TAIESTER  had  watched  with  grave  concern  the 
-*-'  spread  of  Sam  Coulters'  propaganda.  At  first 
he  had  regarded  the  matter  a  good  deal  as  had 
Rutherford  White  and  the  other  professional  poli- 
ticians. The  instinctive  sensing  of  danger  had  been 
lulled  by  the  crafty  machinations  of  the  San  Diego 
boss,  who  had  given  assurance  that  Coulters  was 
merely  a  country  dreamer,  without  friends  or  back- 
ing or  influence. 

Diester's  first  move,  after  wakening  to  the  serious- 
ness of  the  situation,  was  to  pass  the  word  that  this 
anti-Japanese  agitation  was  to  be  belittled.  Noth- 
ing kills  novelty  as  easily  as  ridicule,  so  the  skir- 
mishers were  thrown  out  to  hold  up  Coulters  and 
his  followers  to  contumely.  Here  the  machine  met 
a  stern  rebuff,  for  it  found  the  issue  absolutely 
impersonal. 

It  has  long  been  known  that  the  public  mind  will 
not  accept  a  new  political  or  economic  doctrine  un- 
less it  has  confidence  in  both  the  personnel  and  the 
motives  of  the  men  behind.  If  a  candidate  for  office 
can  prove  that  his  opponents  are  grossly  incompe- 
tent, actuated  by  the  lowest  passions,  it  is  a  suffi- 
cient answer,  as  has  often  been  shown,  to  say  that 
the  accuser  is  bringing  his  charges  because  he  is  dis- 
gruntled or  is  the  private  enemy  of  the  men  he  at- 

(176) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

tacks.  It  sounds  absurd,  yet  its  truth  was  so  well 
known  to  Diester  that  he  believed  that  a  little  per- 
sonal attack  upon  Sam  Coulters  would  end  the  whole 
agitation. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  in  accusing  Sam 
of  dishonesty,  drunkenness,  or  immorality,  no  use 
raking  over  his  past  life  hoping  to  unearth  a  pos- 
sible skeleton.  What  was  done  was  to  paint  him 
as  an  ignorant  rancher,  presumptuously  airing  his 
individual  grievances,  trying  to  secure  followers  to 
right  his  private  wrongs.  They  caricatured  him  as 
of  over-weening  conceit,  of  attempting  to  become  a 
self-constituted  leader,  of  whatever  else  their  fancies 
suggested;  and  woke  to  find  that  they  were  not  fight- 
ing him  at  all,  that  to  reach  him  now  was  but  to  ex- 
tinguish the  match  that  had  started  the  conflagration. 

So  Diester  sent  word  down  the  line,  to  editor  and 
legislator  and  local  boss,  that  the  anti-alien  bill  was 
undesirable.  He  knew  better  than  to  do  this  di- 
rectly, for  no  one  was  more  acutely  aware  than  him- 
self of  the  limitations  of  his  position.  When  he 
found  that  insistence  on  his  part  would  imperil  his 
leadership  he  adroitly  shifted  his  ground  into  the 
legislature  itself.  He  checked  over  the  hundred  and 
twenty  members  of  that  body  to  find  that  he  would 
have  a  substantial  minority,  some  fifty  strong,  who 
would  do  his  bidding.  Some  there  were  who  were 
indifferent,  some  who  blindly  accepted  his  wishes  as 
their  laws,  others  who  really  believed  that  the  hands 
off  policy  was  best  for  the  state.  The  past  master 
in  the  gentle  art  of  befuddling  issues  and  dividing 

(177) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

opposition  could  see  no  difficulty  in  the  present  situ- 
ation. 

When  the  lawmakers  met  in  session  they  spent 
days  in  effecting  organization,  in  the  election  of  offi- 
cers, in  the  appointment  of  committees,  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  patronage.  Bills  were  then  introduced 
by  the  hundreds.  Among  those  that  went  to  the 
committees  was  the  anti-alien  land  bill,  introduced  in 
each  house.  Soon  reports  on  other  prospective  laws 
began  to  emerge  from  committee  rooms.,  to  be  en- 
acted or  killed,  almost  at  Diester's  dictation,  amidst 
drooling,  almost  interminable  debate.  There  is  a 
great  contrast  between  the  leisure  of  the  opening 
days  and  the  frantic  scramble  of  the  last  week. 

Gradually  those  measures  upon  which  Diester 
wished  to  have  action  taken  were  being  brought  up 
for  consideration.  The  ones  that  would  not  stand 
the  light  of  publicity  were  held  back  to  be  rushed 
through  in  the  closing  days,  when  open  debate  and 
careful  scrutiny  were  not  possible.  At  that  time 
there  would  be  many  which  he  would  not  desire  to 
have  passed,  and  yet  which  would  be  if  they  were 
voted  upon.  There  were  many  others  which  would 
hurt  his  party  if  acted  upon  either  way;  these  he 
habitually  suppressed  through  parliamentary  tricks 
or  subservient  conferences. 

Such  were  his  plans  with  regard  to  the  alien  land 
law,  when  he  was  visited  by  Tim  Gilbert  and  How- 
ard Smith,  state  senator  and  assemblyman  respec- 
tively, and  chairmen  of  the  two  committees  which 
held  Coulters'  bill. 

(178) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

"Diester,  Howard  and  I  have  got  to  report  that 
damned  Japanese  law,  and  report  it  without  a  word 
being  changed.  We've  just  had  a  talk  with  the 
farmer  who  is  lobbying  for  it,  and  promised." 

"How  did  he  bluff  you  into  that?" 

"It  was  no  bluff.  He  told  me  that  the  papers  of 
Fresno  county,  all  of  them,  would  print  in  full  every 
step  that  was  taken,  that  they  would  begin  the  day 
after  tomorrow  to  hound  me  for  not  reporting  that 
law,  that  if  I  twisted  a  single  word  that  had  been 
approved  by  the  Fresno  chamber  of  commerce,  they 
would  print  in  parallel  the  old  and  the  new,  and 
give  their  version  of  my  reasons  for  shifting  things. 
He  told  me  all  that,  and  proved  it  to  me.  Two 
members  of  my  committee  are  pledged  to  him 
through  thick  and  thin,  so  there  is  no  way  that  I 
can  dodge.  It  is  strictly  up  to  me.  Howard  is  in 
bad  enough,  but  as  for  me,  why  I  could  never  go 
home  again  if  I  didn't  lie  down  on  you  here." 

"All  right,  report.     How  about  you,  Smith?" 

"My  committee  is  going  to  take  this  over  my 
head  anyway,  and  I  want  to  be  in  the  band-wagon. 
Coulters  was  with  three  men  from  my  district  when 
he  looked  me  up;  you  know  Charlie  Steele  and  Bert 
Fink  and  Fred  Skinner,  big  bugs  of  union  labor. 
I  hate  to  be  a  quitter,  Diester,  but  what  could  I  do?" 

"So  you  promised,  too?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  this  man  Coulters  brains  enough  to  have 
worked  this  out  by  himself?" 

"An  awful  smart  man,"  commented  Gilbert. 
(179) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"But  it  takes  more  than  cleverness  to  do  what 
he  has  done,"  objected  Diester.  "Experience  and 
training  are  just  as  necessary  to  one  of  us  as  to  a 
mechanic.  You  know  the  brightest  man  in  the  world 
couldn't  pick  up  a  saw  and  hammer  for  the  first  time 
and  turn  out  a  perfect  piece  of  work.  I  wonder  who 
is  putting  the  workmanlike  finish  on  everything 
Coulters  does?" 

"He  is  with  Rutherford  White  a  good  deal," 
suggested  Howard  Smith. 

"If  I  thought  he  was  trying  to  double  cross  me, 
I  would  bust  him  so  quickly — somehow,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I  don't  altogether  trust  that  man.  I  be- 
lieve I'll  let  Buddy  Haynes  have  a  try.  Yes,  I'll 
put  Buddy  Haynes  in  White's  place  for  the  sake 
of  extra  precaution." 

The  anti-Japanese  agitation  was  a  nuisance  to 
Diester,  for  he  couldn't  possibly  profit  by  it,  while 
it  might  hurt  him  either  way  it  turned  out.  In  the 
meantime,  his  attention  and  strength  were  being 
deflected  from  matters  which  were  of  real  impor- 
tance. The  months  during  which  the  legislature 
were  in  session  were  the  busy  ones  of  his  existence. 
Into  them  were  crowded  the  trades,  the  appoint- 
ments, and  the  rewards  that  constituted  his  life 
work.  Besieged  as  he  was  by  nearly  every  member 
of  either  house,  by  the  lobbyists  and  the  reporters, 
by  visiting  politicians  and  attorneys,  he  couldn't  turn 
individually  to  any  one  thing. 

He  had  given  to  Coulters'  bill  all  the  time  he 
could  afford,  and  more.     He  had  planned  to  have 

(180) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

it  pass  each  house,  but  to  have  it  pass  in  different 
forms.  He  had  had  prepared  for  the  committee 
amendments  which  he  knew  would  be  acceptable 
to  the  sponsors  of  the  alien  land  law,  in  fact,  such 
acceptance  had  already  been  arranged.  The  result 
would  have  been  that  he  would  have  had  a  house 
bill  and  a  senate  bill,  in  which  case  diplomacy  and 
a  conference  committee  of  his  own  choosing  would 
have  been  able  to  keep  the  factions  apart  until 
towards  the  close  of  the  session.  Then  the  whole 
thing  could  have  been  buried  under  the  avalanche 
of  last  minute  legislation. 

Sam  Coulters  had  defeated  this  plan  by  the  sim- 
ple, straightforward  attack  of  threatened  publicity. 
Diester  had  known  better  than  to  try  to  keep  his 
underlings  in  line  when  they  had  no  opportunity  to 
evade  direct  responsibility,  when  their  actions  and 
motives  would  be  given  prompt  and  general  circu- 
lation among  their  constituents.  Some  new  plan 
might  have  been  evolved  in  time,  but  time  was  an 
unobtainable  asset.  So  Diester  decided  to  throw 
the  whole  matter  back  on  the  federal  managers. 
He  sent  a  wire  to  them  stating  that  the  bill  would 
be  favorably  reported  within  forty-eight  hours,  and 
probably  passed  at  once. 

He  received  a  very  laconic  answer: — "We  do  not 
care  how  you  kill  that  measure." 

His  reply  was  to  admit  his  inability  to  do  so.  He 
begged  them  to  accept  it  in  its  present  form,  or  if 
that  couldn't  be  done,  to  see  if  some  compromise 
could  not  be  arranged.     Otherwise,   all  that  they 

(181) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

could  do  would  be  to  use  their  power  as  they  had 
done  before.  There  followed  quite  an  extensive 
interchange  of  telegrams,  Washington  ever  demand- 
ing more  and  more  details,  even  to  the  full  text  of 
the  bill  and  the  probable  vote  if  one  were  had. 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  Eden  Valley  to  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  from  the  Rosario  school  to  the  White 
House.  So  we  will  not  try  to  follow  too  closely  the 
intricate  manner  in  which  the  United  States  asked 
Japan  if  there  was  any  objection  on  the  part  of  the 
latter  to  this  proposed  California  law,  nor  the  word- 
ing of  the  prompt  and  forceful  answer  that  there 
was.  Deaf  was  Japan  to  all  argument,  to  all  coun- 
ter proposals.  "This  is  discrimination,"  she  said, 
"and  discrimination  we  will  not  tolerate." 

Why  it  should  have  been  a  matter  of  such  vast 
importance  to  our  great  republic  that  Japan  should 
not  be  displeased,  history  does  not  reveal.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  fear  of  war,  or  perhaps  because  of  pos- 
sible interference  with  one  of  the  complicated  Amer- 
ican diplomatic  campaigns,  which  are  pursued  with 
just  as  much  hope  as  though  there  were  a  chance 
of  their  bearing  fruit,  or  possibly  it  was  simply  altru- 
istic idealism. 

Out  of  the  chaos  there  finally  emerged  a  plan;  no 
less  a  personage  than  the  secretary  of  state  himself 
should  cross  the  thousands  of  miles  of  plain  and 
mountain  that  separated  the  golden  state  from  the 
seat  of  government.  He  should  reason  with  the 
California  lawmakers,  show  them  the  error  of  their 
ways,  and  so  impress  them  with  his  importance  that 

(182) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

they  would  receive  to  their  bosoms  and  lavish  friend- 
ship upon  their  erstwhile  enemies.  This  sacrifice  of 
time  and  comfort  by  such  a  personage,  purely  to 
further  the  interests  of  and  promote  friendship 
with  the  island  kingdom  could  not  fail  to  win  favor 
with  the  astute  Japanese. 

California  was  informed  of  the  honor  about  to 
be  conferred  upon  her,  but  not  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  plan  was  conceived,  nor  of  the  effect 
that  the  spectacle  was  having  on  the  Oriental  mind. 
There  was  to  be  no  delay,  the  secretary  was  start- 
ing over  night,  so  of  course  no  decisive  action  was 
taken  in  Sacramento.  Common  politeness  and  re- 
spect for  his  exalted  office  demanded  that  he  should 
be  heard. 

While  the  much  heralded  special  was  tearing 
across  the  continent,  Coulters  and  White  held  many 
councils  of  war.  So  far  their  team  play  had  been 
admirable.  One  or  the  other  had  been  able  to  meet 
in  brilliant  fashion  every  contingency  as  it  arose. 
But  this  happy  faculty  of  supplementing  each  other 
held  no  promise  of  being  able  to  cope  with  the 
menace  that  was  speeding  on  from  the  east.  Be- 
yond securing  promises  of  faithful  support  and 
grooming  forceful  speakers  to  answer  the  country's 
most  famous  orator,  there  was  nothing  that  they 
could  do  to  meet  the  unknown. 

"I'm  afraid  it's  as  hopeless  as  ever,  Sam,"  said 
White.  "Diester  is  clever,  he's  something  up  his 
sleeve  that's  going  to  crush  us  flat  as  a  shadow. 
You  beat  him  in  the  state,  and  together  we  beat 

(183) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

him  in  the  capitol,  but  we  beat  him  too  easily.  If 
he'd  been  in  his  last  trench  he'd  have  stopped  us  long 
ago." 

"If  talk  could  have  checked  me  I  wouldn't  have 
tried  at  all,"  was  Sam's  answer.  "There's  no  use 
becoming  panicy  just  because  we  don't  know  from 
what  direction  the  next  blow  is  coming.  Remem- 
ber, it's  just  as  foolish  to  credit  your  opponent  with 
having  too  much  strength  as  it  is  to  underrate  him. 
Perhaps  Diester  already  has  all  his  cards  on  the 
table." 

"Run  over  in  your  mind  how  easily  they  plucked 
success  from  us  the  last  time.  They  didn't  even 
have  to  exert  themselves.  Compare  our  chances 
then  and  now.  Sam,  you  remind  me  of  a  picture  I 
once  saw.  It  was  of  a  bull  who  stood  his  ground 
while  a  cow  and  calf  hurried  to  safety.  With  low- 
ered head,  bellowing,  pawing,  but  never  yielding 
an  inch,  he  awaited  his  enemies,  shadowy,  slinking, 
wolflike  forms  among  the  forest  trees.  That  bull 
was  doomed,  of  course,  but  he  was  not  worrying 
about  that,  nor  wondering  if  he'd  be  better  off  some- 
where else.  To  stay  there  and  fight  was  his  nature 
just  as  it's  yours." 

"You  are  a  grand  pessimist,  White,  you  didn't  see 
the  end  of  that  picture.     Perhaps  the  bull  did  win." 

White  laughed.  "You  miss  my  point,"  he  said. 
"By  the  way,  I  meant  to  tell  you  that  I  have  it 
straight  that  Diester  is  planning  to  oust  me  as  soon 
as  he  can,  so  this  is  getting  as  serious  for  me  as  it 
is  for  you." 

(184) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

"Are  you  sure?   How  did  you  learn?" 

"One  of  his  men  told  me.  Treachery,  of  course. 
You  can  trust  ho  one  but  yourself  in  this  game." 

"Do  you  think  he  knows  you've  been  helping 
me?" 

"No.  He's  following  out  his  usual  policy;  he's 
chopping  off  my  head  because  he  thinks  some  day 
I  might  challenge  him  for  state  leadership." 

"About  as  low  down — " 

"Self-preservation,  Sam.  I've  done  the  same 
thing  half  a  dozen  times." 

A  conversation  such  as  this  between  these  men 
had  none  of  the  snap  or  fire  of  the  days  when  they 
had  been  campaigning.  They  were  clearly  marking 
time  now,  awaiting  the  secretary,  from  whom  they 
were  to  learn  their  fate.  The  great  one's  progress 
across  the  nation  was  heralded  in  the  papers,  the 
time  of  his  arrival  was  known  to  the  minute.  Com- 
mittees to  meet  and  entertain  him  were  chosen,  so 
that  California's  reputation  for  hospitality  should 
be  sustained. 

A  representative  delegation  met  the  special  train 
near  the  crest  of  the  Sierra  at  the  state  line.  The 
secretary  was  all  smiles  and  warmth,  his  remarks 
covered  a  world-wide  range  of  general  interest,  al- 
most no  topic  seemed  barred,  except  the  particu- 
lar one  that  had  brought  him  from  Washington. 
Neither  the  reception  committee  nor  the  newspaper 
men  could  elicit  a  single  word  that  related  to  things 
Japanese.  At  the  station  was  a  military  band,  a 
horde  of  officials  headed  by  the  governor,  and  half 

(185) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

of  the  city's  idlers.  Geniality  radiated  from  the 
visitor  when  he  alighted  from  his  train,  but  still  he 
maintained  secrecy  about  his  mission.  So  matters 
stood  when  the  stage  was  set,  when  both  houses  met 
in  joint  session  to  hear  the  speech  of  their  august 
guest. 

Coulters  and  White,  from  the  spectators'  gallery, 
saw  the  secretary  take  his  place  upon  the  platform, 
listened  to  the  introduction  by  the  governor,  and 
joined  in  the  applause  which  greeted  the  orator  of 
the  occasion  when  he  rose  to  his  feet.  Now  at  last 
the  veil  of  mystery  was  to  be  withdrawn,  and  every 
one  was  to  know  the  trump  card  which  Japan  was 
about  to  play  to  defeat  undesirable  legislation. 

White  was  visibly  impressed  by  the  pageant.  "It 
doesn't  stand  to  reason  that  this  act  would  have 
been  performed  had  there  been  any  doubt  as  to 
the  outcome.  Do  you  realize  that  to  win  we  not 
only  have  to  dethrone  Diester,  we  actually  have  to 
take  away  this  man's  portfolio?  He  can't  remain 
long  in  the  cabinet  if  he  fails  here.  Do  you  think 
he  would  risk  his  political  life  on  an  uncertainty?" 

"Neither  would  the  wolves  take  chances,  yet  I 
believe  that  in  some  way  the  old  bull  beat  them  off." 
Sam's  words  were  drowned  in  the  applause  that 
came  when  the  secretary  rose  to  speak. 

"Well,  it's  all  over,"  said  White  dejectedly,  as 
the  silvery  voice  that  had  won  conventions  and 
charmed  multitudes  began  its  expected  praise  of 
Californians  in  general  and  those  present  in  particu- 
lar.     Followed  a   eulogy  of  the   United  States,   a 

(186) 


COULTERS  GETS  HIS  LAND  LAW 

panegyric  of  Japan,  an  appeal  to  the  charity  and 
forbearance  of  his  hearers,  for  the  acceptance  by 
them  of  the  yellow  men  who  should  be  the  objects 
of  their  solicitous  care  rather  than  their  enmity. 

"If  he  can  talk  nonsense  as  convincingly  as  this," 
said  White,  "what's  going  to  happen  when  he  has 
something  to  say?" 

The  secretary  was  preaching;  "Love  one  an- 
other," was  the  text.  When  he  felt  that  his  audi- 
ence was  won  to  his  point  of  view,  he  opened  a 
sheepskin  law  book,  from  which  he  read  extracts 
of  the  California  state  constitution,  and  proceeded 
to  prove  conclusively  that  the  proposed  law  would 
be  illegal. 

"There  it  is  at  last,"  said  White.  Even  the  op- 
timistic rancher  felt  the  coming  of  the  end.  "How 
is  it  possible  that  Chandler  Young  was  so  far 
wrong?  A  child  could  see  that  our  bill  is  unconsti- 
tutional. Look  at  Brenton,"  cried  Sam  suddenly, 
"he  is  not  supposed  to  speak  yet."  Rutherford 
White,  as  well  as  everyone  else  in  the  room,  was 
watching  the  young  senator  from  Santa  Barbara, 
the  acknowledged  champion  of  the  bill. 

Brenton  was  on  his  feet,  trying  to  catch  the  eye 
of  the  speaker.  When  the  secretary,  pausing  at  the 
end  of  a  rounded  period,  noticed  this,  he  stopped 
perplexedly,  and  looked  at  Brenton  inquiringly. 

"Will  you  pardon  an  interruption?" 

"Of  course!"  The  answer,  though  forced,  was 
gracious. 

Sam  groaned,  his  tired  head  dropped  on  his  chest 
(187) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Brenton  was  going  to  surrender;  there  was  nothing 
else  he  could  do.  White  reached  out  for  the  ranch- 
er's weather  beaten  hand,  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"You  fought  a  good  fight,  you've  nothing  to  re- 
gret. You  led  your  forlorn  hope  to  the  gates  of 
hell,  even  if  you  didn't  get  through.     Listen — " 

"Mr.  Secretary,  I  know  you  will  pardon  me," 
Brenton's  clear  voice  filled  the  room,  "for  calling 
your  attention  to  the  fact  that  through  an  oversight 
you  are  reading  from  an  old  text  book.  Every 
constitutional  provision  you  have  quoted  has  been 
repealed." 

The  next  day  a  bill  prohibiting  the  ownership  of 
land  by  any  aliens  not  eligible  to  citizenship,  or  the 
leasing  by  them  for  a  period  of  more  than  three 
years,  was  unanimously  passed  by  both  branches  of 
the  legislature,  and  signed  by  the  governor. 


(188) 


D 


CHAPTER  XV 

The  Japanese  Pupils  Return 

ONALD  SCOTT  had  arrived  at  a  decision,  an 
event  comparable  only  to  the  adoption  by  the 
ordinary  mind  of  some  new  principle.  Certain  cere- 
monies had  to  be  observed  before  there  could  be 
any  change  in  the  course  of  conduct  previously  out- 
lined by  that  orderly  brain,  overpowering  influences 
were  necessary  to  induce  the  new  chain  of  thought 
and  a  plentitude  of  time  must  be  devoted  to  a  search 
for  concealed  drawbacks.  Even  then  Donald  be- 
came the  butt  of  circumstances  with  a  shamefaced 
feeling  of  weakness. 

On  this  particular  occasion  initiative  had  come 
from  the  great  freeze  while  action  had  been  induced 
by  the  necessity  of  eating.  He  couldn't  live  for 
two  years  without  income,  and  the  only  feasible  way 
for  him  to  secure  it  was  from  his  land.  So  some 
months  after  his  neighbors  were  doing  the  same 
thing,  he  made  preparations  to  plant  between  the 
rows  of  his  defunct  trees.  He  found  it  difficult  to 
determine  what  to  grow,  for  the  mental  attitude  of 
being  shoved  and  forced  was  not  congenial  to  him. 

Watermelons  and  canteloupe  required  a  light, 
sandy  soil  while  his  was  a  heavy  adobe,  so  they  were 
disregarded.  Tomatoes  were  tempting,  for  the 
yield  might  be  large  and  the  price  even  up  to  eight 
cents.     On  the  other  hand,  they  were  a  gambler's 

(189) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

choice,  so  delicate  as  to  be  easily  lost,  so  uncertain 
of  market  as  often  to  be  worth  less  than  the  har- 
vesting cost.  Donald  was  by  no  means  a  devotee 
of  the  goddess  of  chance,  nor  would  he  have  been 
justified,  under  the  special  circumstances  which  de- 
manded a  safe,  sure  living  for  two  years,  in  risk- 
ing anything  on  the  possibility  of  catching  conditions 
just  right. 

Strawberries,  too,  were  considered,  corn,  cab- 
bages, and  carrots  were  discarded,  and  the  lowly 
potato  finally  chosen. 

Once  settled,  the  growing  of  potatoes  was  adopted 
into  Donald's  life  and  given  all  the  privileges  of 
his  other  established  habits.  The  seed  was  bought 
and  spread  damp  in  the  cellar  to  sprout.  The  small 
shoots  springing  from  the  eyes  were  cut  away  with 
a  generous  piece  of  bulb  attached,  were  planted  in 
hills  and  rows,  and  were  carefully  watered,  culti- 
vated, and  weeded.  From  this  work  Donald  Scott 
sought  rest  and  recreation  only  in  his  church  and 
his  school. 

So  far  the  cleverest  of  the  school  trustees  was  he, 
so  much  the  most  interested  and  experienced,  that 
meetings  of  the  board  did  little  more  than  register 
his  will.  In  the  same  ponderous  way  that  he  gov- 
erned himself  he  attended  to  education  in  Rosario. 
He  seldom  was  creative,  even  less  often  was  he  in 
error,  and  never  would  he  allow  himself  to  be 
hurried. 

To  him  of  all  men  fell  the  duty  of  acting  on  a 
communication  that  was  like  an  unwelcome  wind  in 

(190) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

what  was  to  have  been  a  short  and  formal  meeting. 
Unsuspectingly  Donald  opened,  along  with  the  rou- 
tine mail,  an  official  envelope  containing  three  inof- 
fensive looking  sheets. 

"Sacramento,  Cal. 
"To  the  Trustees  of 
The   Eden  Valley  School, 

Rosario,  Cal. 
"It  has  been  brought  to  the  attention  of  this  office  that 
three  Japanese  students  in  your  school,  Hogo,  Watsa,  and 
Nanga  by  name,  have  been  virtually  expelled  without  the 
filing  of  charges  or  the  hearing  to  which  they  are  entitled 
under  the  laws  of  the  State  of  California.  We  enclose  a 
copy  of  our  correspondence  with  Dr.  Hollington,  which  in 
our  judgment  is  ample  proof  of  our  statement.  We  under- 
stand that  there  are  several  other  Japanese  who  wish  to  at- 
tend the  school  but  are  not  allowed  to  do  so.  The  California 
State  Board  of  Education  has  ordered  me  to  inform  you  that 
until  the  above  irregularity  is  properly  attended  to,  or  sat- 
isfactorily explained,  it  will  be  unable  to  disburse  your  al- 
lotment of  State  funds. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

H.  J.  Williams, 
Sec'y  C.  S.  B.  E." 

Donald  started  reading  this  letter  in  a  sing-song 
voice  which  changed  to  one  with  some  expression 
before  he  had  finished.  Mechanically,  and  because 
in  any  emergency  he  would  naturally  spar  for  time, 
without  making  any  comment  he  picked  up  the  en- 
closures and  read  them  aloud. 

"Sacramento,  Cal. 
"To  Dr.  R.  N.  Hollington, 

Rosario,   Cal. 
"Dear  Sir: — 

"I  have  been  requested  to  write  to  you  for  information 
regarding  the  dropping  from  the  Rosario  school  of  the  Jap- 
anese boys,  Hogo,  Watsa  and  Nanga.  We  are  anxious  to 
ascertain  what  formalities  were  observed,  as  well  as  the 
reasons  which  prompted  this  action. 
"Thanking  you  for  any  information, 
Very  sincerely, 

H.  J.  Williams, 
Sec'y  C.  S.  B.  E. 

(191) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Rosario,   Cal. 
"H.  J.  Williams,  Esq., 

Sec'y  California  State  Board  of  Education, 
Sacramento,    Cal. 
"Dear  Sir: — 

"Replying  to  yours  of  recent  date,  I  can  only  say  that  I 
have  very  little  personal  knowledge  on  the  points  you  men- 
tion. It  is  commonly  known  that  the  action  you  refer  to 
was  taken  because  the  parents  of  the  girls  in  the  school  were 
unwilling  to  have  their  daughters  associate  with  the  Jap- 
anese. The  trustees,  I  know,  were  sorry  for  the  boys  them- 
selves, and  what  they  did  was  purely  for  the  best  interests  of 
the  school  and  a  register  of  popular  will.  As  far  as  I  am 
aware  there  were  no  formalities  beyond  informing  the  Jap- 
anese that  they  were  no  longer  to  come." 
Yours  truly, 

Robert  N.  Hollington,  M.  D." 

The  three  trustees  looked  at  each  other  in  some 
concern.  Sanford,  the  junior  member  who  had 
taken  Warner's  place,  was  the  first  to  speak.    * 

"I  wonder  why  Hollington  wanted  to  stir  up  this 
matter?" 

Scott,  careful  as  ever,  would  not  jump  at  conclu- 
sions. 

"All  he  did  was  to  write  a  truthful  reply  to  a 
letter.     Let  us  think  this  thing  over  a  little." 

"If  you  had  two  girls  in  that  school  you  wouldn't 
be  so  cool  about  it,"  said  Henry  Tower.  "Every- 
body knows  that  the  doctor  has  been  a  friend  of 
those  Japanese.     I  believe  he  put  them  up  to  this." 

"It's  more  likely,"  said  Scott,  "that  the  boys  have 
talked  to  their  consul.  Then  the  matter  would  go 
to  Washington,  for  they've  a  habit  of  starting  at  the 
top  and  pressing  down.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if 
someone  were  squeezing  the  state  board  twice  as 
hard  as  it's  squeezing  us." 

"All  the  same,"  said  Sanford,  "there's  no  reason 
(192) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

why  the  doctor  should  have  written  that  letter.  If 
he  had  answered  at  all,  which  he  didn't  have  to  do, 
he  could  have  said  that  he  knew  nothing  beyond 
talk  that  he  had  heard." 

"I  would  like  to  ask  him — "  began  Donald. 

"I  can  tell  you  just  what  he  would  say,"  snapped 
Tower.  "He  would  put  on  his  holier  than  thou 
expression,  and  ask  why  we  object  to  what  he  wrote, 
since  it's  true.  He  would  practically  throw  it  back 
to  us  that  we  were  afraid  of  having  the  truth  told." 

"He  wouldn't  be  so  blunt  as  that,"  Sanford  has 
the  appearance  of  trying  to  be  fair.  "But  it's  true 
that  he  doesn't  recognize  the  borderland  of  expe- 
diency that  lies  between  right  and  wrong." 

"Long  words  never  settled  anything.  Let's  de- 
cide what  we  are  going  to  do  about  this  school 
money.  We  must  either  have  it  or  else  close  the 
school.  We  might  as  well  face  the  fact  that  the 
only  way  to  keep  open  is  to  reinstate  those  Japs." 

"We  might  do  that  and  then  expel  them  regu- 
larly," said  Sanford. 

"Or  we  might  give  them  a  separate  room  and 
a  special  corner  of  the  playground,"  was  Tower's 
idea. 

"Yes,  or  try  a  half  dozen  other  things,  as  was 
done  in  San  Francisco.  The  trouble  is  that  nothing 
that  discriminates  in  the  least  will  satisfy  the  Japa- 
nese ambassador.  He  doesn't  care  whether  we 
close  the  school  or  not,  nor  how  we  run  it.  He  is 
not  interested  in  getting  an  education  for  those  boys. 
His  theory,  as  I  see  it,  is  that  any  discrimination, 

(193) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

no  matter  how  trivial,  would  be  an  entering  wedge 
for  all  the  race  hatred  in  the  state,  so  he  stands 
firmly  on  his  record  that  he  will  not  tolerate  any- 
thing. He  has  to  stop  somewhere;  the  safest  and 
easiest  place  to  stop  is  at  the  beginning.  It  is  all 
simple  if  you  have  a  powerful  central  government, 
like  the  one  in  Washington,  which  is  so  afraid,  or 
so  indifferent,  or  both,  that  it  will  practically  take 
orders  from  a  foreign  power." 

"You  are  not  fair  to  Washington,"  Tower,  a 
staunch  supporter  of  the  party  in  power,  never  over- 
looked an  opportunity  to  justify  its  every  act.  He 
was  cut  short  by  Sanford,  with  a  curt  request  to 
keep  politics  out  of  the  meeting. 

Donald  continued  his  remarks.  "The  schools  in 
San  Francisco  tried  everything  possible  without 
making  any  headway.  They  went  farther  than  we 
could  go,  offering  special  schools  and  teachers.  But 
the  Japanese  government  said  no,  its  ambassador 
said  no,  our  federal  government  echoed  no,  so  did 
the  state  government  and  its  board  of  education. 
Now  that  the  same  process  is  being  tried  on  us  we 
are  going  to  do  as  San  Francisco  did,  take  a  long 
breath,  shut  our  eyes,  and  swallow  the  dose." 

"Is  there  no  way  we  can  save  our  faces?"  asked 
Sanford. 

"There  is  nothing  to  do,  except  to  rescind  our 
action  on — " 

"I  will  not  consent.  My  girls  are  not  going 
where  they  will  have  to  associate  with  grown  men, 
above  all  with  men  like  these  yellow  Asiatics." 

(194) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

"What  would  you  do?  The  alternative  is  to  close 
the  school." 

"Then  close  it.  Let  the  people  of  this  state  learn 
that  Rosarians  will  not  allow  their  women  to  be 
contaminated.  Let  them  see  us,  with  our  schools 
empty  and  our  children  missing  their  education,  sac- 
rificing ourselves  to  our  principles,  and  there  would 
be  pressure  enough  brought  on  that  board  of  edu- 
cation to  get  us  our  money." 

"But  it  doesn't  matter  what  the  board  wants  to 
do  if  Donald's  ideas  are  correct,  which  I  believe  to 
be  the  case.  Somewhere  at  a  desk  in  Washington 
a  Japanese  attache  and  a  third  or  fourth  assistant 
secretary  of  state  would  be  seated.  The  former 
with  his  thumb  on  the  list  would  be  saying:  'Here 
is  number  seventeen,  about  the  Rosario  matter.' 
The  American  would  run  down  his  paper  and  an- 
swer: 'The  school  has  been  closed  indefinitely.' 
'Closed  to  all?'  the  attache  would  ask.  'That  is 
perfectly  satisfactory.  Now  case  eighteen — '  and 
that  is  all  the  excitement  you  would  create  by  trying 
to  be  a  martyr." 

"Be  reasonable,  Henry.  If  you  don't  want  your 
girls  to  go  to  this  school  keep  them  away.  You 
don't  have  to  close  the  school  to  do  that;  depriving 
all  of  the  boys  and  most  of  the  girls  of  this  valley 
of  an  education  isn't  going  to  help  your  children  at 
all.  We're  here  as  trustees — "  Donald  stopped 
abruptly,  uneasy  at  the  change  in  Tower's  expres- 
sion. 

"Donald,"  said  Tower,  "I  know  what  you  and 
(195) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Sanford  are  about  to  do,  but  I'll  not  be  a  party  to 
it.  I'm  fair  enough  to  recognize  that  there's  no 
choice  but  to  go  on,  so  I'll  not  sit  here  to  vote 
against  you."  He  rose  reluctantly  to  his  feet.  "I've 
been  a  trustee  longer  than  either  of  you,  ever  since 
my  girls  went  to  kindergarten,  and  during  those  ten 
years  I've  always  voted  according  to  my  conscience. 
To-day,  either  way  I  vote  will  be  against  it,  and  so" 
he  looked  at  his  fellow  trustees  an  instant,  his  hands 
trembled  a  little  as  he  reached  for  his  hat,  then  he 
resolutely  put  it  on  and  finished  in  a  firm,  even  voice, 
"I  resign." 

Henry  Tower  seemed  years  older  as  he  walked 
down  the  school  steps  and  crossed  the  empty 
grounds.  The  sun  was  hot,  the  air  unpleasantly 
dry,  the  wind  blew  an  irritating  dust  into  his  nos- 
trils. Eden  Valley  was  desolate,  the  orchards  were 
but  stumps,  its  people  were  engaged  in  hopeless 
contest  with  conditions.  His  party  in  Washington 
had  surely  erred  in  this  case;  Hollington  was  to 
blame;  Edith  and  Virginia  must  be  educated,  yet 
they  could  not  be  sent  to  the  Rosario  school.  He 
himself  had  nothing  to  show  for  his  last  fifteen 
years  of  gruelling  work;  of  a  truth  Henry  Tower 
had  the  blues. 

His  house  was  a  five  room  frame  cottage,  close 
and  stuffy  and  dark,  saturated  with  the  odor  of  cook- 
ing just  now,  for  Mrs.  Tower,  preparing  supper, 
could  not  close  the  kitchen  door.  She  was  surprised 
and  somewhat  worried  that  he  should  come  into  the 

(196) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

house  before  the  meal  time,  to  sit  in  idleness  wait- 
ing for  her.  She  was  too  busy  to  more  than  per- 
functorily ask  if  he  were  sick,  but  she  was  relieved 
later  to  see  him  eat  a  substantial  meal.  After  it 
was  finished  she  told  the  girls  to  do  the  dishes,  and 
taking  a  seat  close  to  him  drew  from  him  the  story 
of  his  troubles. 

He  tried  to  be  truthful  in  the  matter,  and  prob- 
ably would  have  been  so  but  for  his  abnormal  frame 
of  mind.  He  did  not  intentionally  exaggerate  Hol- 
lington's  part  in  the  affair,  and  yet,  because  he  was 
bitter  he  said  more  than  he  meant.  He  was  care- 
less and  unfortunate,  too,  in  his  choice  of  words; 
so  on  the  whole  he  produced  in  Mrs.  Tower's  mind 
an  impression  at  variance  with  the  facts.  When 
he  tried  to  retrieve  himself,  she  could  see  that  under 
the  spell  of  the  fascinating  doctor  he  was  taking 
the  other's  part,  and  so  the  effort  had  an  effect  quite 
the  opposite  of  what  was  intended. 

The  husband  was  the  first  to  weary  of  the  talk. 
"After  all,"  he  said,  "it's  not  so  much  a  question 
of  who's  to  blame  as  it  is  of  what  we're  going  to 
do.  There'll  be  five  of  those  Japs  in  school  by 
Monday;  I  expect  to  see  as  many  more  in  time.  It 
makes  me  sick  to  think  of  sending  Edith  and  Vir- 
ginia there." 

"You  can't  do  so,  you  shall  not!" 
"They  have  to  have  their  schooling,  mother." 
"Boarding  school  for  them  would  cost  us  a  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year." 

(197) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  wish  we  could,  but — " 

"Yes,  I  know,  Henry,  what  can  we  do?" 

"Sell  out  and  move  away  is  the  only  thing  I  can 
see. 

"Who  would  buy?  Where  could  we  go?  What 
could  we  do?" 

"Well?" 

"I  don't  want  to  leave  Rosario.  Every  spot  in 
this  valley  has  memories;  some  of  them  are  pleas- 
ant; they  recall  the  years  we  have  spent  here  to- 
gether, and  those  have  been  happy  years.  Some 
are  just  part  of  our  lives,  yours  and  mine,  and  those 
of  our  friends  that  are  gone  as  well  as  those  that 
remain;  some  are  sacred,  those  two  graves  on  the 
hillside.     I  simply  cannot  go  away." 

"Nor  can  I,  but  there's  no  alternative." 

"What  can  you  do  for  a  living?" 

"I  used  to  be  a  pretty  good  carpenter." 

"But  it's  fifteen  years  since  you  worked  at  your 
trade." 

"I  built  an  extra  room  for  you  last  spring.  I 
remember  how  pleased  I  was  to  find  I  had  forgotten 
so  little." 

"But  you  must  have  become  slower,  from  being 
out  of  practice  so  long.  Besides,  even  if  you've  not 
forgotten,  you've  not  kept  up  with  what  the  other 
carpenters  have  learned  since  we  came  here." 

"Even  if  I've  to  begin  as  helper,  and  be  a  second 
rate  man,  I'll  make  a  living  for  you  in  some  way." 

"Who  would  buy  this  place  now?" 
(198) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

"Hanba.  He  has  a  small  standing  offer  for  each 
farm  in  the  valley.  He  probably  has  it  figured  out 
that  every  once  in  a  while  some  of  us  will  become 
so  discouraged  as  to  cash  in  for  a  fifth  of  what  we 
should  receive.  So  long  as  no  one  else  will  buy 
he  is  sure  to  pick  up  places  by  such  means  as  fast 
as  he  wants  them,  and  at  a  low  cost.  It's  a  winning 
game  for  him,  as  our  case  shows.  If  we  couldn't 
sell  at  all  we  would  have  to  stick  it  out.  As  it  is  he 
has  put  us  in  such  a  hole  that  we  have  to  go  away, 
and  just  about  give  him  our  place  when  we  do." 

After  Tower  had  left  the  meeting,  Scott  and  San- 
ford,  hurrying  through  the  routine  necessary  to  re- 
instate the  Japanese,  adjourned  as  soon  as  they  had 
written  the  state  board  that  its  demands  had  been 
met.  Donald  went  directly  home  to  tell  Dorothy 
Tibbetts  about  the  action  that  had  been  taken.  He 
found  Bessie  with  her,  the  housewife  sewing  while 
the  teacher  checked  countless  attempts  at  long  divi- 
sion. With  an  unpleasant  task  to  perform,  which 
he  was  determined  to  put  behind  him  as  soon  as 
possible,  Donald  plunged  at  once  into  the  subject. 
He,  too,  told  of  Hollington's  letter,  but  he  treated 
of  it  lightly,  besides  which  the  minds  of  both  of  his 
hearers  were  centered  upon  the  effects  that  the  re- 
turn of  the  Japanese  was  to  have  upon  the  school. 

Dorothy  accepted  the  change  with  a  coolness  that 
was  surprising.  "If  they  are  coming  I  shall  have 
to  teach  them,"  she  said.  "There  can  be  no  blame 
attached  to  any  of  us.  And  they  are  such  good 
students." 

( 199  ) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"You  are  a  brave  girl  to  take  it  that  way,"  said 
Bessie.  "Donald,  you  must  see  to  it  that  she  is 
protected,  that  people  do  not  make  a  scapegoat  of 
her." 

"How  many  do  you  think  there  will  be?"  asked 
Dorothy. 

"Anywhere  from  six  to  ten,  and  more  if  things 
in  this  valley  go  on  as  they  have  been  going." 

"What  shall  I  do  with  them,  treat  them  as  I  did 
before?" 

"There  must  be  ways  by  which  we  can  help  you 
avoid  some  of  the  troubles,"  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

"Inside  the  school  building  we  cannot  help  her, 
for  the  state  board  will  allow  no  discrimination. 
Her  judgment  is  better  than  ours  when  it  comes  to 
teaching." 

"She  might  seat  them  so  that  they  are  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  girls,  and  then  have  all  the  boys 
remain  in  a  room  until  all  the  girls  have  left." 

"Do  you  think  it  necessary?"  asked  Dorothy. 

"I  believe  it  would  make  a  good  impression  on 
the  mothers." 

"Then  divide  the  playground,"  said  Donald. 
"One  part  for  the  girls  and  the  boys  up  to  fifteen, 
the  other  for  boys  of  sixteen  or  older.  Do  not  ever 
allow  any  of  them  to  cross  into  each  other's  space, 
and  you  will  have  avoided  another  pitfall." 

"And  on  the  way  to  and  from  school?"  asked 
Dorothy. 

"Make  it  a  rule  that  no  boy  is  ever  to  walk  with 
any  girl  if  her  mother  objects,  and  then  assume  that 

(200) 


THE  JAPANESE  PUPILS  RETURN 

every  mother  objects  to  a  Japanese  escort.     Will 
you  do  all  this,  Dorothy?" 

"I  hate  to  be  rude  to  those  boys,  for  I  always 
feel  so  sorry  for  them.  But  if  you  think  it  best, 
Mr.  Scott,  I  will  do  as  you  have  said." 


(201) 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Dance  in  San  Clemente 

ATRS.  PEMBERTON  was  in  her  glory,  for  this 
■*•»«*■  night  all  San  Clemente  did  her  homage.  The 
banquet  hall  had  been  re-decorated  to  her  taste, 
special  dishes  prepared  at  her  directions,  wines 
brought  from  her  New  York  cellars.  In  her  honor 
the  fleet  admiral  had  detailed  the  bands  of  two 
flagships;  in  every  way  preparations  were  lavish  and 
complete. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  Pembertons  took  their  place 
in  the  reception  hall.  In  the  background  were  pot- 
ted palms;  beside  their  hosts,  on  their  first  trip  to 
the  coast,  stood  the  Boston  Dudleys,  the  guests  of 
honor. 

By  twos  and  threes  the  guests  arrived,  filling  the 
room  with  the  elect  of  half  a  dozen  cities.  Hardly 
a  gown  that  had  not  been  especially  imported  for 
the  occasion,  hardly  a  family  jewel  that  was  not 
on  display.  The  tinsel  of  uniforms  glittered  among 
masterpieces  of  the  hairdressers'  art;  men  and 
women  alike  showed  the  studied  effects  of  being 
groomed  with  extreme  care.  Some  there  were  who 
had  traveled  from  afar  to  be  present,  and  more 
than  one  saw  in  the  affair  the  culmination  of  years 
of  work  and  scheming. 

The  stream  was  continuous  for  fifty  or  sixty  ar- 
rivals, until  one  more  guest  only  was  expected.    The 

(202) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

receiving  line  was  about  to  break,  when  Robert  Hol- 
lington  entered. 

"I  hope  I'm  not  late,  Mrs.  Pemberton.  I  was 
unfortunately  delayed." 

"I  forgive  you,  Robert,  but  I  never  would  have 
done  so  if  you  had  failed  me.  You  remember  my 
husband,  of  course.  I  want  you  to  met  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dudley  of  Boston;  you  have  often  heard  me 
speak  of  Dr.  Hollington.  I  have  only  a  moment 
now,  Robert,  but  tell  me  about  yourself,  what  are 
you  doing?" 

"Practicing  medicine  in  the  country?" 

"It  wasn't  a  bit  nice  of  you  to  desert  us  the  way 
you  did.  I  always  could  dance  better  with  you  than 
anyone  else.  I  want  you  to  be  especially  attentive 
to  me  tonight,  and  I'll  reward  you  in  advance  by 
giving  you  for  a  dinner  partner  the  belle  of  San 
Clemente.  Come  with  me.  She  is  standing  by  Mrs. 
Charleton  behind  that  fat  General  Harris." 

He  followed  her  through  knots  of  people,  until 
she  stopped  before  one  of  the  most  attractive  mid- 
dle-aged woman  Robert  had  ever  seen. 

"I  want  to  introduce  Dr.  Hollington,  Mrs. 
Charleton,  and  your  dinner  partner,  Miss  Coulters." 

It  came  about  so  suddenly,  so  without  warning, 
that  poor  Frances,  untrained  to  meet  exigencies  of 
this  nature,  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  conduct 
herself. 

"Miss  Coulters  and  I  are  old  friends."  Robert 
saved  her  by  playing  his  part  without  a  perceptible 
check.     "I  had  heard  that  you  were  in  San  Diego," 

(203) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

he  continued,  "but  it  is  certainly  an  unexpected  pleas- 
ure to  meet  you  here." 

"Are  you  going  to  be  down  long?"  Frances  was 
taking  the  cue.  Both  she  and  Robert  were  relieved 
that  Mrs.  Charleton  saw  no  reason  for  remaining 
and  moved  away  when  her  escort  came  to  claim  her 
attention. 

"I  have  to  rush  home  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  would  not  have  left  for  anyone  but  Mrs. 
Pemberton,  but  I  owe  her  such  a  debt  of  obligation 
that  I  could  not  refuse.  The  situation  is  unfortu- 
nate. If  I  had  had  a  suspicion  that  you  would  have 
been  made  uncomfortable,  I  would  assuredly  not 
have  come.  For  the  sake  of  the  others,  you  under- 
stand, we  simply  have  to  carry  out  the  evening.  I 
will  make  it  as  easy  for  you  as  I  can.  Tell  me  about 
Mrs.  Charleton,  it  seems  to  me  I've  heard  of  her. 
She  is  from  Chicago,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes,  she's  Mr.  Winfield's  sister." 

"Of  course,  I  remember  now  having  heard  him 
speak  of  her.  I  see  that  the  people  are  going  into 
the  other  room,  we  had  better  find  our  places  at  the 
table." 

Cutshaw  was  to  sit  beside  Frances.  She  intro- 
duced Robert  to  him  and  also  to  Mrs.  Porter.  Miss 
Grenville  and  Winslow  were  on  Robert's  left,  he 
had  known  both  of  them  before.  Beyond  these 
immediate  neighbors  it  was  hopeless  to  give  much 
attention  to  others.  A  temporary  respite  came  while 
everyone  was  standing  by  his  chair,  but  when  the 
confusion  attending  the  seating  of  so  large  an  assem- 

(204) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

blage  had  been  abated,  Robert  felt  that  he  must 
continue  to  talk  to  Frances. 

"We  were  speaking  of  Mrs.  Charleton.  Are  you 
staying  with  her?" 

"Yes.  She  invited  me  to  visit  her  for  three 
weeks." 

"Is  she  as  lovely  as  she  looks?"  Robert  had  said 
they  must  go  on,  but  he  was  losing  confidence  in 
himself.  Could  he  not  force  some  other  thought 
into  his  mind  than  bits  of  gossip  he  had  overheard 
coupling  her  name  with  Winfield's? 

"She's  a  perfect  dear.  I  didn't  know  that  anyone 
could  be  so  charming." 

The  first  course  over,  strains  of  music  came  from 
the  adjoining  room.  All  the  younger  and  some  of 
the  older  people  were  rising. 

"They  are  playing  Twilight  in  the  Rose  Garden," 
murmured  Frances.  It  was  a  piece  once  dear  to 
the  hearts  of  both,  the  old  favorite  that  carried 
memories  of  happy  Rosario  days. 

"Shall  we  dance?"  Robert  was  surprised  at  the 
change  in  his  feelings.  Was  it  the  music,  or  was 
he  imagining,  in  spite  of  himself,  that  some  mean- 
ing lay  behind  the  tone  of  her  last  remark? 

Never  had  these  two  had  such  a  dance.  The 
thoughts  Robert  could  not  put  in  words  he  tried  to 
tell  through  the  medium  of  the  song.  With  her  once 
more  in  his  arms,  with  every  movement  of  her  lithe 
body  responding  to  his  will,  care  and  trouble  and 
sorrow  dropped  away.  She  was  his;  he  was  holding 
her  now  against  all  the  world.     His  every  step  and 

(205) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

movement  must  make  her  understand  that  he  was 
her  protector.  Her  answer  was  to  nestle  against 
him,  to  forget  past  and  future.  Not  because  of  the 
practice  she  had  been  having,  not  because  of  the 
difference  between  this  music  and  a  country  band, 
but  because  she  was  a  woman  and  he  had  won  her, 
did  they  dance  into  utter  forgetfulness  of  any  exist- 
ence outside  of  themselves. 

Little  did  they  know  that  they  had  become  con- 
spicuous, that  some  telepathy  was  crowding  the 
doorway,  was  lining  the  walls,  with  couples  drop- 
ping out  to  watch.  The  leader  of  the  orchestra  was 
one  of  the  first  to  sense  the  unusual.  He  outdid 
himself  to  force  from  the  instruments  the  rhythm 
and  inflection  that  would  support  them  as  he  wanted. 
He  played  one  repeat  after  another,  as  long  as  he 
dared,  before  he  ended  the  scene  in  a  series  of  reso- 
nant chords. 

Of  all  the  comments  that  were  made,  perhaps 
the  one  most  worthy  of  mention  came  from  the 
count  de  Montigny  with  a  series  of  Gallic  shrugs : 

"Mais  zese  is  a  wonderful  people.  All  ze  aris- 
tocracy is  here,  yet  ze  farmer's  daughter  and  ze 
country  doctor,  zey  outshine  zem  all.  Everywhere 
haf  I  been  to  balls,  nevaire  hafe  I  seen  such  danc- 
ing, such  temperament.  Zey  haf  ze  soul  of  great 
artistes,  ze  farmer's  daughter  and  ze  country  doc- 
tor.    I  am  glad  I  came  to  ze  America." 

Frances  and  Robert,  back  from  the  clouds,  were 
astounded  to  find  themselves  surrounded  by  admir- 

(206) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

ers  who  insisted  on  congratulating  them.  Mrs.  Pem- 
berton  broke  through: 

"You  must  give  an  encore,  with  the  floor  all  to 
yourselves.  I  never  dreamed  that  either  of  you, 
that  anyone,  could  dance  like  that." 

They  were  deaf  to  all  appeals.  Both  knew  that 
the  waltz  had  been  a  supreme  effort  which  could 
not  again  be  approximated. 

At  the  table  once  more  it  became  of  greater  im- 
portance than  ever  to  keep  up  appearances. 

"You  were  telling  me  of  Mrs.  Charleton." 

"Yes.  She  has  just  asked  me  to  live  with  her 
permanently." 

The  bottom  dropped  out.  Robert  made  no  fur- 
ther effort,  his  limit  had  been  reached.  When  the 
music  started  again  he  danced  perfunctorily  with 
Miss  Grenville,  and  afterward  with  Mrs.  Porter. 
He  chatted  with  the  others  seated  near  him,  and 
left  his  place  a  number  of  times  to  speak  to  old 
friends.  But  he  knew  he  was  only  procrastinating. 
Even  when  he  began  to  fear  that  the  silence  between 
himself  and  Frances  might  be  noticed,  he  knew  he 
could  not  do  his  part. 

"Tell  me  about  the  people  here."  He  was  clearly 
shirking.     "I  know  only  a  few." 

"I'm  beginning  to  distinguish  types."  Frances 
was  willing  to  tell  him  of  her  impressions,  for  she 
knew  she  wouldn't  be  misjudged.  "At  the  top  of 
the  list  is  the  married  flirt.  She  has  a  new  beau 
every  few  months,  desperately  plays  at  love  with 
him  until  she  drops  him  for  another.     Can  you  un- 

(207) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

derstand  what  any  of  them  get  out  of  it?  Then 
there  is  the  discontented  woman.  She  is  usually 
about  forty,  too  young  to  be  reconciled  to  her  years, 
and  too  old  to  receive  the  attention  that  she  once 
commanded.  She  usually  tries  to  force  popularity 
by  excessive  entertaining.  There  is  the  restless 
woman.  Her  mind  is  often  on  other  things  than 
men,  but  she  has  to  be  doing  something  every  min- 
ute, as  though  afraid  to  be  alone  with  her  thoughts. 
There  is  the  complacent  woman.  Her  children  are 
the  smartest  in  the  world,  her  household  the  most 
perfectly  managed,  her  conversation  and  interests 
limited  to  those  two  subjects.  There  is  the  self- 
centered  woman.  Every  discussion  that  is  started, 
no  matter  how  foreign,  she  brings  back  to  her  hus- 
band, herself  or  her  clothes.     There  is — " 

She  was  interrupted  here  by  Winslow  claiming 
a  one-step.  Robert  went  to  do  his  duty  toward  Mrs. 
Pemberton.  The  meal  was  finished  now,  so  the 
dancers  were  not  returning  to  their  seats,  and 
Robert  could  find  no  further  excuse  for  forcing  his 
attentions  on  Frances.  Even  the  ordinary  obliga- 
tion to  ask  her  to  go  on  the  floor  again  was  relieved 
by  the  sensation  of  their  first  appearance. 

From  that  point  the  evening  dragged  intermina- 
bly. A  duty  lay  before  him,  that  of  helping  others 
to  enjoy  themselves.  It  was  not  a  pleasure,  it  was 
hard  work,  work  which  he  performed  faithfully 
until  the  break  of  day.  Hour  after  hour  he  hewed 
to  the  line,  dancing,  talking  or  laughing,  but  ever 
watching  Frances,  the  belle  of  the  evening,  usually 

(208) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

surrounded  by  men  clamoring  for  recognition.  And 
the  hardest  struggle  of  all  came  at  the  end,  when 
he  started  home  without  even  a  word  of  farewell 
from  her. 

Breakfast  that  day  was  late  in  Mrs.  Charleton's 
room.  The  eggs,  the  bacon,  the  toast,  the  coffee, 
were  disposed  of  in  silence,  broken  only  by  scat- 
tered remarks.  Not  until  the  trays  were  put  aside 
did  they  speak  of  the  matter  that  weighed  on  their 
minds. 

"I  asked  you  yesterday  how  you  would  like  to 
live  with  me  permanently?" 

"And  you  promised  to  tell  me  all  about  it  in  the 
morning." 

"I  have  enjoyed  so  much  having  you  with  me  that 
I  want  you  to  stay." 

"You  mean  to  work  for  you?" 

"Not  at  all,  you'll  be  even  more  a  daughter  to 
me  than  you  have  been,  and  I  shall  insist  that  my 
friends  so  recognize  you." 

"I  could  imagine  nothing  more  lovely  than  hav- 
ing you  for  a  mother." 

"We  would  spend  part  of  our  time  living  as  we 
have  lived  here,  part  of  it  not  very  differently  in 
Chicago.  Travel  would  account  for  most  of  the 
rest." 

"You  are  wonderfully  kind  to  offer  that  to  me — " 

"I  am  not  kind  at  all,  it's  unadulterated  selfish- 
ness. I  have  been  contented  the  past  fortnight.  I 
have  drawn  a  fund  of  pleasure  out  of  this  monoto- 
nous existence  because  I'd  an  object,  that  of  pleas- 

(209) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ing  you,  and  because  you  satisfied  my  mother  love." 

"You  surely  know  hundreds  of  girls  much  better 
qualified  than  I." 

"Not  one,  Frances,  not  one  who  would  do  at  all. 
I  know,  for  this  idea  is  not  new.  You  are  unspoiled, 
unselfish,  and  enthusiastic,  and  not  the  least  bit 
cynical.  Do  you  think  that  any  girl  could  be  brought 
among  these  people  and  retain  those  qualities?" 

"But  think  of  their  education,  training  and  expe- 
rience, the  advantages  they  have  had." 

"I  know  that  the  world  values  those  things  very 
highly,  and  so  do  I.  But  after  all  character  is  the 
first  consideration.  Anyway,  I'm  not  in  search  of 
abstract  qualities.  I  want  the  person  who  pleases 
me.  As  long  as  you  do  that,  let's  not  delve  too 
deeply  into  the  why." 

"Do  you  really  want  me  to  live  with  you?" 

"I  do,  more  than  you  would  imagine.  I'm  getting 
but  little  pleasure  out  of  life;  mine  is  too  empty.  If 
I  had  ever  stopped  to  analyze  motives  I  suppose  I 
would  have  to  admit  that  I  had  this  idea  in  mind 
when  I  first  asked  you  to  come.  I  may  have  had  it 
in  mind  every  time  I  have  had  girls  visiting  me.  I 
will  make  you  happy.     I  will  develop  you — " 

"There  is  no  question  of  that." 

"You  will  travel,  you  will  study,  you  will  associate 
with  the  best  people  and  come  in  contact  with  the 
cleverest.  You  will  have  clothes  and  spending 
money — " 

"I  can  picture  a  charming  existence.  What  am  I 
to  do  in  return,  what  can  I  do?" 

(210) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

"Do?  Just  what  you've  been  doing.  Be  my 
daughter." 

"But  I've  a  mother  in  Rosario,  and  a  father  and 
a  sister." 

"Please  do  not  begin  with  objections.  It's  time 
you  were  dressing  for  the  plunge.  Go  down  there, 
do  the  things  you  have  been  doing;  picture  it  to  your- 
self, not  as  something  in  which  you  have  been  dab- 
bling, but  as  your  life.  Then  take  time  to  weigh  the 
matter." 

"Poor  Edward,"  said  Mrs.  Charleton  to  herself, 
when  the  girl  was  gone,  "and  poor  me.  I  know 
she's  not  for  him,  and  as  for  me,  I'm  afraid.  It  is 
tragic  that  the  one  girl  I  want  is  the  only  one  I've 
ever  met  who  would  hesitate  at  such  an  opportunity." 

In  the  water  once  more,  with  the  same  people. 
But  Frances  was  thinking  now.  Gone  was  the  reso- 
lution of  the  pier,  gone  too  her  acceptance  of  condi- 
tions. She  fell  to  studying  people,  especially  her 
own  sex.  She  compared  herself  with  the  girls,  she 
compared  her  mother  with  the  women.  With  the 
cold  reasoning  power  that  was  her  heritage  from  her 
father  she  arrived  at  the  fundamental  truth  that  as 
this  was  a  life  of  pleasure  it  could  be  justified  only 
if  it  brought  happiness. 

That  it  did  so  to  the  debutantes,  even  to  the 
younger  married  set,  was  obvious.  But  hardly  a 
woman  past  thirty-five  but  was  discontented.  Would 
she  herself,  starting  so  much  later  and  so  much 
fresher,  last  longer?  Could  she  find  some  substan- 
tial basis  on  which  she  could  progress  from  this  stag- 

(211) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

nation?  There  was  still  another  alternative.  She 
could  join  Mrs.  Charleton,  she  could  draw  all  that 
society  could  give,  then,  when  satiated,  could  aban- 
don it  all.  It  was  a  dangerous  game  to  play.  She 
knew,  in  a  vague  way,  something  of  the  grip  with 
which  a  drug  could  take  hold  of  one.  She  recognized 
the  parallel,  for  already  she  was  coming  under  the 
spell  of  being  on  the  inside,  of  regarding  one's  self 
and  of  being  regarded  as  better  than  the  rest  of 
the  world,  of  being  sought  after  and  entertained, 
and  of  being  envied  by  outsiders. 

It  is  often  said  that  women  cannot  reason.  This 
old  slander  might  contain  some  truth  if  it  were  amp- 
lified to  contain  the  idea  that  she  can  reason  and 
does,  but  after  having  done  so,  disregards  premises 
and  postulates  to  follow  her  own  will.  Nothing 
could  have  been  more  feminine  than  for  Frances  to 
spend  days  studying  the  subject,  weighing  all  sides 
as  her  father  would  have  done,  and  yet  be  unwilling 
to  abide  by  the  result. 

She  gave  her  decision  a  few  days  before  the  visit 
was  to  expire.  She  thanked  Mrs.  Charleton,  she 
even  cried  a  bit,  and  so  did  the  elder  woman.  Fran- 
ces tried  to  give  reasons  for  returning  to  Rosario, 
but  she  couldn't  make  them  sound  convincing,  even 
to  herself,  for  reason  was  all  on  the  other  side. 

"I'll  not  attempt  to  argue  the  matter,"  Mrs. 
Charleton  had  not  spoken  until  Frances  was  talked 
out.  "You've  made  up  your  mind.  If  I  remind  you 
that  the  offer  will  always  be  open  I  do  so  without 

(212) 


THE  DANCE  IN  SAN  CLEMENTE 

hope.  I've  learned  to  know  you.  By  the  way,  you've 
heard  that  Winslow  is  going  east  Saturday?" 

"Yes,"  Frances  showed  her  surprise  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

"Did  you  know  that  he  started  to  make  his  ar- 
rangements the  morning  after  the  Pemberton's 
ball?" 

"I  understood  that  he  had  decided  only  yester- 
day.    What  do  you  ask?" 

"Did  you  consider,  in  balancing  the  pros  and 
cons,  that  if  you  came  to  me  you  would  undoubtedly 
marry  into  this  set,  one  of  these  days?" 

"I'd  not  thought  about  it  particularly." 

"But  you  know  that  it's  so?" 

"I'm  utterly  lost,  Mrs.  Charleton.  What  are  you 
trying  to  tell  me?" 

Frances  looked  into  a  tired  face,  felt  two  tremb- 
ling hands  take  hers,  caught  a  pathetic  tremor  in 
the  sweet  voice  that  answered: 

"Winslow  and  I  alone  of  all  that  room  inter- 
preted Twilight  in  the  Rose  Garden." 


(213) 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HOLLINGTON    GOES    FlSHING 

^T  ITROGEN  is  one  of  the  most  tantalizing  of  the 
-*-^"  elements.  As  a  free  gas  it  comprises  the  great- 
est part  of  the  earth's  atmosphere.  In  chemical 
combination  it  is  most  commonly  found  in  nitric  acid 
and  the  host  of  derivative  nitrate  salts,  in  ammonia 
and  in  the  cyanides.  Native  nitrogen  is  so  inert  that 
it  has  practically  no  function  except  to  dilute  the 
oxygen  of  the  air.  Joined  into  a  molecule,  however, 
whether  with  oxygen,  hydrogen,  or  carbon,  it  be- 
comes the  plaything  of  the  manufacturing  and  scien- 
tific world,  for  in  every  ordinary  form  it  is  soluble, 
stable,  and  easily  transformed. 

Once  it  has  been  harnessed  nitrogen  becomes  im- 
mensely valuable  to  man,  being  demanded  by  him 
in  vast  quantities.  Yet,  with  the  supply  everywhere 
inexhaustible,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  force  the 
inert  gas,  the  nitrogen  that  we  breathe,  to  affiliate 
with  any  other  element  to  first  form  a  molecule. 
There  are  two  remarkably  complicated  and  widely 
variant  ways  by  which  this  may  be  done.  Electricity, 
with  an  expenditure  of  power  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  results,  produces  a  molecule  based  on  the  ni- 
trogen atom,  as  shown  by  the  traces  of  ammonia  in 
the  air  after  a  lightning  storm.  There  are  factories 
in  operation  to  reproduce  these  phenomena  com- 
mercially. 

(214) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

The  nodules  that  grow  upon  the  roots  of  legumes 
have  a  faculty  of  absorbing  the  free  nitrogen  of  the 
air,  transforming  it  within  themselves,  and  secreting 
it  into  the  soil  in  the  form  of  a  highly  complicated 
molecule.  The  nodules  appear  to  the  eye  as  white 
pulpy  masses,  the  size  and  shape  of  bird  shot,  cling- 
ing in  clusters  of  hundreds  to  the  roots  of  peas,  of 
vetch,  of  beans,  of  clover  and  its  allied  group.  The 
secretion  thrown  off  is  of  inestimable  value  in  en- 
riching the  soil,  for  of  the  three  basic  fertilizers  ni- 
trogen is  more  necessary,  more  available,  and  far 
more  easily  exhausted  than  either  potassium  or 
phosphorus. 

The  farmer  plants  one  of  these  legumes,  the  seeds 
carefully  inoculated  unless  the  soil  happens  to  be  suf- 
ficiently pregnant  with  the  bacteria.  The  cover  crop, 
as  it  is  termed,  is  allowed  to  mature  in  the  orchards. 
When  it  is  about  to  die,  and  when  the  end  of  the 
rainy  season  makes  the  conservation  of  moisture  of 
supreme  importance,  this  cover  crop  is  plowed  into 
the  earth.  It  is  not  cut  to  be  carted  away,  for  even 
in  death  its  value  is  conserved;  its  leaves  and  stalks, 
rotting  underground,  add  immensely  to  the  rich- 
ness of  the  soil  as  they  become  converted  into  humus. 

So  it  was  that  Clem  Harding,  having  planted 
vetch  in  his  grove,  had  watched  with  great  interest 
the  drying  of  his  soil  in  order  not  to  miss  the  proper 
moment  to  do  his  plowing.  A  day  arrived  when  the 
conditions  suited  him.  He  was  out  at  dawn  behind 
his  team  of  greys,  holding  the  handles  of  the  walk- 
ing plow  that  was  taking  a  strip  of  soil  a  foot  wide, 

(215) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

and  nearly  as  deep,  and  literally  turning  it  upside 
down.  He  grudged  the  horses  their  noon  hour  rest, 
as  seated  in  the  shade  of  his  cottage  he  surveyed  his 
morning's  work,  an  acre  and  a  half  of  black  velvet 
glistening  in  the  sun. 

He  had  little  more  than  started  the  afternoon 
grind  when  there  came  drifting  across  the  fields  the 
cheery  voice  of  Hollington,  calling  from  the  seat  of 
a  little  roadster.  Clem,  always  glad  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  talk  to  Robert,  fastened  the  lines  to  the 
plow  handle  and  came  to  the  road. 

aPut  your  team  in  the  barn,  Clem.  I  feel  like  a 
naughty  child  playing  hookey,  for  I've  all  the  rest  of 
the  day  to  myself.  We're  going  to  climb  San  Mar- 
cos and  catch  some  fish  besides,  so  you  had  best  tell 
Peter  to  water  your  stock  to-night.  We  may  not  be 
home  before  morning." 

"With  that  ground  turning  over  like  snow?  Look 
at  that  furrow,  Doctor.  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
prettier?  Never  mind,  wait  here  while  I  get  my 
rod."  Clem  looked  in  the  box  on  the  back  of  the 
car.  "You  have  everything  we  need,  water,  food 
and  blankets.  You  are  becoming  a  first-class  camp- 
ing partner.  Are  you  going  to  take  your  revolver? 
Then  mine  stays  home." 

While  Harding  was  making  his  preparations 
there  came  from  around  the  bend  a  rangy  brown 
horse  drawing  an  old  farm  buggy.  Fulton  Graham, 
as  he  passed,  spoke  to  the  doctor,  but  with  an  inde- 
finable expression  in  the  greeting  that  swept  away 
every  vestige  of  Robert's  boyish  humor.     Clem  re- 

(216) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

turned  in  time  to  recognize  the  back  of  the  disap- 
pearing vehicle,  and  his  sharp  eyes  took  in  every 
detail  of  the  scene. 

Fully  aware  that  he  had  been  detected,  Robert 
was  glad  to  unburden  himself.  "There's  something 
I  don't  understand,"  he  said.  "This  is  the  fourth 
experience  of  the  kind  I've  had  this  morning.  Do 
people  believe  I've  committed  murder?" 

"Worse'n  that." 

"Worse  than  that?  What  do  you  know  about  it?" 

"I  heard  some  talk  down  at  the  village  last 
night — " 

"Come,  man,  out  with  it."  Robert  was  too  im- 
patient for  the  slow  drawl.  i 

"It's  all  about  a  letter  you  wrote  to  the  state 
board  of  education." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"It  seems  that  it's  enough." 

"Go  on,  Clem,  please  tell  me." 

"Well,  some  people  seem  to  think  that  it's  your 
fault  that  the  Japanese  boys  are  back  in  the  school." 

"How  can  they  possibly  blame  me?" 

"No  one  explains  exactly  how.  Everyone  knows 
you  were  mixed  up  in  it,  and  a  good  many  of  them 
believe — " 

"Clem,  all  in  the  world  I  did  was  to  write  a  po- 
lite letter." 

"Yes,  I  made  Donald  show  me  that  letter." 

"Do  you  think  I  did  anything  that  was  foolish 
or  wrong?" 

"In  a  way,  yes.  You  might  put  your  fingers  into 
(217) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

a  barrel  of  grease,  fool  around  in  it,  and  still  keep 
clean.  But  if  a  crowd  of  people  saw  you  doing  it, 
and  couldn't  see  your  hands,  you  know  a  lot  of  'em 
are  going  to  be  sure  you  had  grease  all  over  your- 
self, and  a  few  will  insist  that,  regardless  of  your 
coat  sleeves,  you  went  in  up  to  the  elbows." 

Thus  the  day's  sport  had  not  a  very  auspicious 
start.  But  as  the  little  car  chugged  up  the  moun- 
tain road  that  wound  and  twisted  and  climbed,  the 
change  of  scenery  brought  success  to  Robert's  de- 
termination that  his  outing  should  not  be  spoiled. 
Just  as,  at  times,  he  could  leave  Frances  in  San 
Clemente,  so  now  he  left  the  latest  of  his  troubles 
down  on  the  flat,  while  he  drove  his  car  up  as  far 
as  he  could  before  taking  to  the  trails  afoot. 

A  little  off  the  road,  under  an  old  oak  tree,  was 
his  stopping  place.  Seven  thousand  feet  above  him, 
still  with  its  crown  of  snow,  towered  San  Marcos. 
Flanked  on  all  sides  with  steep,  knifelike  ridges, 
the  mountain's  summit  was  miles  away,  past  chap- 
paral  hills  and  sage  mesas,  beyond  the  oak  country 
and  topping  the  pines,  enthroned  in  the  solitary 
grandeur  of  the  vast  barrens. 

It  was  on  the  lower  levels  that  the  trout  streams 
lay.  Fed  by  the  springs  and  the  melting  snow,  their 
career  started  underground,  and  since  they  ran  into 
the  subterranean  rivers  of  the  valleys,  only  in  times 
of  freshet  did  they  remain  above  the  surface  until 
they  reached  the  sea.  "Starting  nowhere  and  not 
going  anywhere,"  Clem  was  wont  to  say,  they  fur- 
nished the  sportiest  fishing  and  the  hardest  .work 

(218) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

that  a  trout  hunter  could  desire.  Up  slopes  that  in 
themselves  would  be  a  feat  to  climb,  this  hardy  pair 
would  go  in  search  of  pools.  Sometimes  they  were 
fortunate  enough  to  find  an  old  cattle  trail,  but 
more  often  they  had  to  force  their  way  through  the 
tangled  brush.  Their  objective  was  almost  always 
guarded,  usually  by  a  tangled  mass  of  chapparal, 
manzanita,  and  scrub  oak.  Unlike  the  sage  or  the 
cactus  fields  on  the  edge  of  the  mountains,  which 
could  either  be  crossed  or  passed  by,  here  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  plunge  through,  with  reckless  dis- 
regard of  hands,  faces,  and  clothes.  Only  occa- 
sionally were  they  compelled  to  give  up  the  attempt, 
for  both  were  hardened  to  the  work,  but  always 
was  there  the  double  uncertainty  of  no  still  water 
where  they  expected  to  find  it,  or  no  fish  obliging 
enough  to  take  the  bait. 

When,  for  any  reason,  one  pool  no  longer  satis- 
fied, they  would  scan  the  walls  on  either  side,  study- 
ing the  place  where  they  wished  next  to  strike  the 
bottom,  and  the  best  route  to  follow  to  that  point. 
The  stream  bed  was  never  passable  for  any  distance, 
so  up  one  of  those  perpendicular  canon  sides  they 
would  go,  sweating  under  the  merciless  sun,  panting 
and  bleeding,  yet  fighting  their  way  up  step  by  step. 
It  was  exhilarating  sport,  splendid  for  mind  and 
body;  any  catch  under  such  conditions  was  fairly 
earned. 

They  spoke  seldom,  even  when  taking  a  breath- 
ing spell.     But  under  the  shade  of  the  willows,  after 

(219) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

two  hours  of  strenuous  work,  they  did  indulge  in 
the  luxury  of  tobacco  and  fifteen  minutes  rest. 

"About  that  Rosario  school — " 

"Don't  you  dare  mention  Rosario  to  me  to-day." 

"All  right;  but  I  was  just  thinking.  This  country 
is  one  of  the  great  powers.  Mexico  is  nothing,  and 
Japan  is  between  the  two.  Why  is  it  that  we  allow 
Japan  to  do  more  for  her  people  in  our  country 
than  we  do  for  our  own  people  in  Mexico,  or  any- 
where else?" 

"It  is  inconsistent,"  Robert  admitted. 

"So  much  so  that  it  makes  me  think  of  Ike  Tol- 
liver  and  the  Swede.  They  lived  together  in  the 
Bitterroot  country,  and  were  the  best  of  friends. 
But  they  had  a  quarrel  and  the  Swede  had  Ike 
brought  up  before  the  justice  of  the  peace,  accused 
of  taking  his  saddle  horse  without  asking  and  of 
riding  it  until  it  was  foundered. 

"  'Jedge,  this  here  Swede  ain't  got  no  horse,  never 
had  one',  said  Ike.  'And  I  never  teched  his  horse, 
nohow.  And  he  said  special  I  might  take  it  that 
time.  And  there  was  nothing  at  all  the  matter  with 
that  horse  when  I  brought  it  back.  And  besides, 
Jedge,  it  was  foundered  when  I  started.'  " 

That  night  the  two  fishermen  slept  on  the  fringe 
of  the  pine  forests,  so  far  had  they  climbed.  Worn 
out  they  were,  but  with  the  healthy  tiredness  that 
is  quite  different  from  exhaustion.  They  cleaned 
their  fish,  they  packed  them  safely,  then  turned  to 
making  camp.  First,  there  was  the  fire  to  be  built. 
Then   enough  wood  must  be  gathered   to   keep   it 

(220) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

burning  through  the  night,  for  they  could  not  bur- 
den themselves  each  with  more  than  a  light  blanket, 
made  into  a  small  shoulder  pack,  with  coffee,  bacon, 
bread,  a  coffee  pot,  two  cups,  and  a  frying  pan. 
Such  luxuries  as  sugar  and  a  small  can  of  condensed 
milk  Clem  had  always  ridiculed;  pepper  and  salt 
marked  his  limit. 

Around  the  camp  fire  that  night,  with  the  work 
all  done,  in  a  little  world  of  their  own  where  there 
were  no  cares  or  worries,  Clem,  yielding  to  Hol- 
lington's  urging,  unbosomed  himself  of  several  ideas 
on  the  Japanese  question. 

"The  whole  trouble  comes  from  their  wanting 
to  be  treated  as  white  folks  when  nature  made  them 
yellow.  They  say  they  are  just  as  good  as  we,  and 
they  are  willing  to  fight  to  prove  it.  It  is  not  a  ques- 
tion at  all  of  which  is  the  better.  We  do  not  want 
them  as  neighbors,  and  we  do  not  want  them  to 
marry  our  girls.  We  would  feel  the  same  way,  no 
matter  if  they  were  the  best  people  on  earth,  which 
they  are  not.  They  do  not  understand  our  idea  at 
all.  But  if  any  man  or  woman  in  all  this  country  will 
imagine  himself  having  four  or  five  Japanese  as  next 
door  neighbors,  with  one  of  them  his  son-in-law,  he 
would  know  why  we  Californians  do  not  like  them." 

When  both  men  lay  in  their  blankets,  taking  a  last 
smoke  before  they  closed  their  eyes,  Clem  again  let 
loose  his  tongue. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  bear  catching  bugs  by  tear- 
ing open  a  rotten  log?  There  is  apt  to  be  a  jay  or 
two  darting  in  as  close  as  he  can  to  snatch  a  louse 

(221) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

or  a  beetle.  These  Japs  do  us  just  about  as  much 
good  as  the  jays  do  the  bear.  This  would  not  be 
the  nation  it  is  if  we  lived  the  way  they  live,  and 
yet,  unless  we  do  they  will  produce  many  things 
cheaper  than  we  can.  And  all  the  time  they  are 
taking  advantage  of  what  our  different  standards 
of  living  have  made  possible,  for  without  our  ma- 
chinery, our  telephones,  our  railroads,  our  banks, 
our  water  systems,  our  markets,  they  could  not  com- 
pete at  all." 

In  the  solitudes  there  is  a  difference  between  the 
twilight  of  the  evening  and  the  early  dawn.  In 
the  first  instance,  nature  is  recumbent,  leisurely  be- 
ginning its  nocturnal  life.  Perhaps  it  is  waiting  for 
the  air  to  cool,  perhaps  for  the  moon  to  rise,  or 
more  often  postponing  action  through  laziness  or 
inertia.  But  in  the  morning  there  is  always  some 
pleasure  not  yet  exhausted,  some  task  to  be  com- 
pleted. There  is  dew  on  the  grass,  there  is  energy 
in  the  air,  there  is  life  and  hurry  and  excitement. 

So  it  seemed  to  Robert  as  at  dawn  he  sat  over 
his  coffee  and  bacon,  watching  Clem  make  up  the 
shoulder  packs.  Far  below  a  little  roadster  was 
awaiting  him,  still  farther  away  was  his  morning 
work,  and  the  cares  and  sorrows  that  were  begin- 
ning to  fill  his  life.  He  was  strong  enough  to  take 
his  mind  from  the  valley,  to  concentrate  on  the  sur- 
rounding beauties  of  nature,  to  realize  that  it  was 
a  southern  California  spring.  He  had  slept  in  a 
clump  of  pines  which  were  an  outpost  of  the  great 
forest  above.     At  a  little  distance  from  him  grew 

(222) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

some  wonderful  Matilija  poppies,  large  and  white 
and  long  of  stem.  Almost  at  his  feet  trickled  a 
mountain  stream,  half  hidden  in  a  tangled  mass  of 
undergrowth.  The  banks  seemed  to  be  so  thickly 
covered  with  fern  as  to  preclude  other  growth,  yet 
sunning  themselves  by  the  warm  rocks  or  seeking 
the  dampest  of  shade  was  a  galaxy  of  nature's 
choice  jewels.  The  maidenhair  fern  was  there,  the 
wild  strawberry,  the  cassiope  in  fringes  among  the 
rough  granite.  The  scarlet  honeysuckle  rose  here 
and  there  to  throw  itself,  a  graceful  mantle,  over 
buckthorn  and  wild  rose.  Along  one  bank  was 
strewn  a  great  bed  of  azaleas  with  wonderful  pink 
and  white  blossoms  that  were  after  all  but  a  fore- 
cast. Early  summer  would  turn  the  entire  mass 
into  one  great  sheet  of  perfume  and  color. 

Dr.  Hollington  was  not  a  botanist,  he  was  a  lover 
rather  than  a  student  of  nature.  He  saw  all  about 
him  the  small  plant  life  in  countless  varieties,  with 
flowers  of  every  color  and  shape.  Many  he  could 
identify,  the  greater  part  he  could  not,  but  he  was 
satisfied,  for  it  was  the  charm  of  the  aggregate 
that  fascinated  him.  He  moved  to  a  spot  from 
which  he  could  look  down  the  creek  and  see  a  hun- 
dred feet  of  water.  The  stream  forced  its  way 
among  granite  boulders,  some  sunlit,  some  dark, 
still  others  carrying  in  the  form  of  shadows  the  out- 
lines of  overhanging  boughs  and  leaves.  The  wil- 
lows, the  alders,  and  the  dogwood,  with  a  few  small 
pine,  closed  the  vista  on  either  side,  and  overhead 
as  well.     The  banks  were  massed  with  the  under- 

(223) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

growth,  covering  or  being  covered  by  the  accumu- 
lation of  dead  driftwood.  The  blue  sky  shone 
through  in  tiny  flakes,  the  sunlight  now  and  then 
touched  a  flower,  a  twig,  or  an  old  white  stump. 
At  some  little  distance  were  the  giants  of  the  moun- 
tains, the  cedar,  the  sugar  pine,  the  redwood,  and 
below  them  the  oak,  all  too  strong  and  too  proud 
to  struggle  with  the  little  folks  for  the  possession 
of  the  brookside. 

Robert  lingered  on,  past  sun-up.  The  murmur  of 
the  water  was  music  to  his  ear,  telling  him  that  such 
spots  were  infinite  as  to  number,  infinite  as  to  time. 
It  was  begging  for  more  of  his  hours,  it  was  entic- 
ing him  from  his  work,  it  was  showing  him  the 
futility,  the  insignificance  of  his  sacrifice.  It  whis- 
pered that  nothing  human,  nothing  finite,  really 
mattered.  It  tempted  him  to  go  back  to  Frances, 
to  tell  her  that  he  would  surrender,  that  he  would  do 
only  what  the  ethics  of  his  profession  demanded, 
that  he  and  she  would  spend  half  their  lives  amidst 
such  scenes  as  this. 

Never  before  had  Robert  had  to  fight  himself 
to  do  what  he  conceived  to  be  right;  never  again  did 
he  so  far  master  himself  as  to  be  free  from  the  lure 
of  the  mountains.  It  was  with  an  effort  that  he 
shouldered  his  pack  and  started  on  the  homeward 
trail.  The  descent  was  precipitous  but  it  was  not 
difficult  to  travel.  There  ran  the  entire  distance  a 
half  natural,  half  man-made  path  from  which  all 
the  brush  was  gone.  Furthermore,  the  air  was  cool, 
the  fishermen  were  rested,  and  they  both  were  well 
used  to  this  work.  (  224  ) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

A  few  minutes'  walk  from  the  camp  there  was 
a  tiny  clearing,  not  more  than  fifty  yards  across. 
Covering  it  for  half  its  width  lay  a  giant  sugar  pine, 
long  dead.  Among  its  white  branches  were  brake 
and  fever-red  poison  oak;  the  chilicote  spotted  its 
huge  antlers  with  tiny  white  blossoms,  while  amidst 
the  rotting  debris  of  its  fall  baby  oaks  and  pines 
half  hid  themselves.  One  barkless  branch  still 
reached  toward  the  sky  and  furnished  a  foothold 
for  a  mountain  quail,  a  bird  much  larger  than  his 
valley  cousin,  wearing  a  straight  top-knot  several 
inches  long,  and  retaining  to  the  full  the  regal  bear- 
ing of  the  breed. 

When  he  flew  away  at  the  approach  of  the  men 
he  was  followed  by  his  more  quietly  colored  mate, 
for  this  was  the  spring-time,  when  the  birds  are 
paired.  Scarcely  was  gone  the  sound  of  their  feet 
upon  the  pine  needles  when  two  robins  left  the  red 
berries  of  the  manzanita.  All  nature  was  coupled, 
the  metallic  green  breast  of  a  humming  bird  whiz- 
zing by  showed  he  was  but  joining  his  mate  among 
the  violet  blossoms  of  the  nightshade,  and  even  the 
chipmunk,  scampering  over  the  granite  edge,  was 
not  alone. 

The  trail  crossed  a  barren,  lifeless  stretch  that 
had  recently  been  burned,  then  entered  dense  deer 
brush.  Straight  down  the  mountain-side  ran  the 
path,  dropping  a  thousand  feet  to  the  mile  and  al- 
lowing no  opportunity  to  watch  for  birds  or  flowers. 
But  the  easier  going  of  a  meadow  brought  the  two 
Rosarians    into    a   great   field   of   yellow   mustard. 

(225) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Higher  than  their  heads  ran  the  stalks.  All  that 
could  be  seen  of  this  great  golden  lake  were  the 
narrow  borders  of  the  opening  kept  clear  by  cattle. 
In  and  out  of  the  delicate  weave  of  flower  and  leaf 
played  the  blackbirds,  those  with  glossy  feathers 
and  bright  red  epaulets  pursuing  those  whose  coats 
were  dull  and  lustreless. 

Robert  pressed  on,  until  brought  to  an  abrupt 
stop  by  the  vista  of  distant  Eden  Valley.  At  his 
feet  lay  another  bank  of  deer-brush,  with  mesa  and 
rolling  hills  beyond.  In  the  distance  lay  range  after 
range  paralleling  each  other,  ever  becoming  bluer 
and  more  misty  as  they  dissolved  into  the  sky.  But 
between  lay  a  wide  yellow  streak,  flat  as  an  ocean, 
hazy  and  indistinct.  He  could  detect  the  larger 
trees,  if  isolated,  the  lines  and  cross  lines  of  roads, 
and  every  now  and  then  some  house  or  barn. 
But  it  was  not  details  he  sought.  Rosario  lay  before 
him,  his  home  and  hers,  helpless,  battered  Rosario, 
depending  upon  him  to  fulfill  its  destiny. 

A  stray  from  the  higher  levels,  a  dark  speck  in 
the  sky,  there  was  an  eagle  slowly  sailing  overhead. 
"It  is  not  true,"  the  doctor  mused,  "that  you  are 
alone,  for  a  mate  is  waiting  for  you  on  some  crag. 
It  is  not  true  that  you  are  watching  and  guarding, 
for  you  are  but  seeking  something  to  kill.  Yet  you 
are  a  symbol.  So  be  it,  the  valley  and  the  solitary 
eagle!" 

When  the  trail  reached  the  mesa,  that  appar- 
ently level  stretch  proved  to  be  covered  with  inter- 
minable  round  mounds,   two   feet  high  and  three 

(226) 


HOLLINGTON  GOES  FISHING 

yards  across,  almost  touching  each  other.  The  hol- 
lows between,  holding  a  richer  soil,  were  a  spectra 
of  color.  The  modest,  shrinking  pansy,  half  droop- 
ing its  yellow  head,  the  saucy  cream  cups,  delicate 
and  hairy,  tendering  their  straw  colored  petals  to 
the  wayfarer,  the  glorious  hyacinth,  proudly  lifting 
its  violet  clusters  that  all  might  see,  the  pink  paint 
brush  beloved  by  all  the  honey  eaters,  the  larkspur, 
incomparable  galaxy  of  blue,  the  filigree,  weird  and 
fantastic,  and  ever  a  pair  of  doves  to  rise  from 
the  white  sage,  or  a  yellow  breasted  lark  singing 
from  mid  air,  or  two  ground  sparrows,  feeding  and 
flirting  together;  with  never  a  rest  from  the  mar- 
velous changing  perfume. 

Then  a  sudden  turn  in  the  path  threw  the  traveller 
into  a  field  of  poppies,  the  crowned  queen  of  the 
wildflowers.  So  gorgeous  was  the  mass  that  no 
thought  could  be  spared  the  individual;  so  wonder- 
ful was  each  golden  cup  that  one  dared  not  look  at 
another,  fearing  such  perfection  could  not  be  re- 
peated. Mere  words  cannot  do  justice  to  the  flower 
that  drew  ships  from  the  sea,  that  named  a  great 
commonwealth,  and  made  it  famous.  No  art  of 
man  can  reproduce  God's  own  masterpiece,  but  the 
heart  of  Robert  Hollington  missed  none  of  the  col- 
oring, or  texture,  or  form,  missed  none  of  the  celes- 
tial blending  of  all  three,  nor  the  setting  of  stems 
and  leaves  and  pods  worthy  of  the  jewel  they  car- 
ried, for  he  was  responding  to  an  even  greater  thing, 
to  the  greatest  of  all  gifts  from  the  Father  to  his 
children. 

(227) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

It  was  spring.  Every  flower,  every  woodland 
pair,  stirred  in  Robert  the  age-old  instinct  to  mate, 
hammered  at  the  barriers  that  lay  between  him  and 
Frances.  His  companion  knew  that  the  doctor  was 
fighting  something  within,  and  trudged  along  in  si- 
lence. For  an  hour  neither  had  spoken.  They  had 
reached  the  car  and  packed  it,  they  had  climbed  in 
and  started  home,  before  Robert  awoke  to  his 
neglect. 

"Clem,  I  am  sorry  to  have  been  so  rude.  What 
do  you  think  of  me?" 

"I  knew  you  were  having  trouble,  but  I  knew  that 
if  you  had  wanted  my  help  you  would  have  asked 
for  it." 

"I  may  call  on  you  yet.  When  a  man  reaches  a 
point  where  he  cannot  do  right  without  a  struggle — " 

"I've  heard  people  say,  good  friends  of  yours, 
too,  that  you  were  not  so  much  a  man  as  a  perfectly 
balanced  piece  of  machinery;  that  you  had  no  emo- 
tions, no  imagination,  that  you  never  had  done  a 
reckless  thing  in  your  life.  You've  been  brought  up 
to  keep  your  feelings  to  yourself,  but  you're  just  as 
human  as  any  of  us,  and  you  should  thank  God 
you  are. 

"There  are  two  answers  to  your  question.  One 
is  that  you  are  finding  out  that  you  aren't  so  very 
unlike  the  rest  of  us.  The  other  is  that  there  is  a 
big  difference  between  fighting  to  keep  from  doing 
wrong,  and  fighting  to  keep  from  being  miserable 
when  you're  doing  right." 

(228) 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Dorothy  Teaches  School 

DOROTHY  TIBBETTS  was  one  of  those 
women  to  whom  children  instinctively  turn  to 
be  comforted.  The  world  is  full  of  them.  There  is 
something  in  their  faces  when  they  smile  on  a  little 
sufferer,  something  in  their  caresses  when  they  lift 
him  to  their  knees,  that  brings  a  warm  glow  of 
comfort  and  happiness  to  the  baby  heart  and  makes 
him  know  that  he  has  reached  a  haven  where  he  is 
safe  from  pain  and  sorrow.  This  is  an  attribute 
of  the  ideal  woman,  the  woman  for  whose  protec- 
tion civilization  has  evolved,  the  woman  for  whose 
comfort  men  struggle  in  competition. 

The  failure  of  any  woman  to  be  able  to  win  this 
trust  does  not  of  itself  class  her  with  those  unna- 
tural ones  who  try,  more  or  less  successfully,  to 
keep  the  thoughts  of  children  from  their  minds. 
Many  a  good  woman,  good  with  all  the  praise  the 
word  implies,  keen  with  desire  to  emulate  those 
whom  she  most  admires,  simply  lacks  that  intangible 
attraction  which  brings  the  child  to  her  in  blind 
trust.  She  may  eventually  win  the  deeper  and  more 
lasting  love  of  the  two,  but  not  being  spontaneous 
it  cannot  come  as  quickly  nor  include  so  great  a 
number. 

Miss  Tibbetts  was  not  a  philosopher.  When 
Helen  Cowles  came  in,  with  her  mouth  drooping, 

(229) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

rubbing  one  wet  eye  with  a  clenched  fist,  and  com- 
plaining that  Tommy  had  snatched  away  an  all  day 
sucker  and  was  now  enjoying  it,  Dorothy  did  not 
stop  to  reason.  She  pulled  little  Helen  upon  her  lap, 
wiped  away  the  tears,  and  with  the  touch  of  her 
hand,  brought  smiles  once  more  to  the  face  of  the 
seven-year-old.  Tommy,  when  called  to  account,  ex- 
plained that  since  Helen  had  grabbed  his  candy  and 
trampled  it  in  the  dirt  it  was  perfectly  proper  for 
him  to  take  hers.  Helen  justified  her  conduct  on  the 
ground  that  Tommy  had  been  pulling  her  hair,  which 
in  turn  came  from  her  calling  him  a  nigger  baby, 
and  so  on.  Not  the  wisdom  of  Solomon  could  have 
decided  right  from  wrong.  Dorothy  did  not  try. 
Her  nature  was  to  comfort  both,  to  patch  up  the 
quarrel  and  to  admonish  them  to  behave.  If  Terry 
Fisher  could  not  make  his  additions  correspond  with 
hers,  the  teacher  did  not  scold.  She  coddled  him, 
touched  his  pride,  coaxed  him,  and  made  him  su- 
premely happy  at  last  when  she  pronounced  his  work 
correct. 

The  older  children  presented  different  problems, 
but  all  were  solved  with  the  same  heart.  Dorothy 
the  teacher  had  been  trained  to  do  her  work  in  a 
stereotyped  way,  a  way  which  she  conscientiously 
sought  to  follow.  Indeed  she  would  have  been 
greatly  surprised  if  anyone  had  accused  her  of  vary- 
ing a  hair's  breadth  from  her  instructions.  Never- 
theless she  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  find  the 
paragraph  in  her  manual  which  authorized  her  to 
devote  her  noon  recess  to  helping  Willie  Bent,  an 

(230) 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

ambitious,  hard  working  little  fellow  who  just  could 
not  keep  up.  Nor  what  obligation  lay  upon  her  to 
spend  Saturday  mornings  with  a  few  of  the  girls 
who  wanted  to  make  clothes,  not  only  teaching  what 
she  herself  knew  about  sewing,  but  actually  cutting 
out  and  finishing  the  garments. 

Among  the  older  people  Dorothy's  influence  was 
very  strong,  though  indirect.  All  the  mothers  knew 
her,  as  every  one  knows  every  one  else  in  a  place 
the  size  of  Rosario.  But  they  also  knew  her  as 
the  person  with  whom  their  children  spent  many 
hours  every  school  day.  There  was  a  general  com- 
fortable feeling  that  in  the  atmosphere  of  her  pres- 
ence none  would  be  harshly  or  unjustly  treated,  nor 
could  any  real  wickedness  long  endure.  Many 
thought  her  weak,  who  believed  in  more  Spartan 
methods.  These  preached  to  her,  urging  that  she 
maintain  a  firmer  discipline  and  keep  herself  more 
aloof  from  the  scholars.  But  they  who  sought  to 
influence  her  were  far  more  often  influenced  by  her. 
Strength  and  courage  there  was  in  plenty  in  Eden 
Valley,  while  meekness  and  gentleness,  weakness  if 
you  choose,  were  relatively  unknown.  Many  a  caller 
leaving  Miss  Tibbetts  without  having  strengthened 
the  teacher's  character,  yet  went  home  to  speak  a 
kinder  word  or  be  more  openly  affectionate  than  had 
been  usual. 

Dorothy  could  not  share  in  the  prevalent  dislike 
of  the  Japanese.  She  could  not  really  have  hated 
even  a  person  who  had  done  her  injury.  Hers  was 
not  the  temperament  that  saw  a  menace  in  the  yel- 

(231) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

low  invasion,  that  shared  the  fear  of  its  progress, 
nor  sensed  the  danger  it  threatened  to  home  and 
family.  To  her  the  very  fact  that  the  Japanese 
were  aliens  entitled  them  to  sympathy.  They  had 
come  to  this  country  to  improve  themselves,  finan- 
cially and  otherwise,  and  to  do  so  by  hard  labor. 
Surely  that  was  commendable.  But  more  than  all 
these  intangible  things  these  people  were  human 
beings.  Watsa  was  not  the  representative  of  a  for- 
eign nation,  he  was  not  a  unit  in  the  race  problem, 
he  was  Watsa,  with  his  individual  characteristics, 
his  personal  faults  and  virtues. 

So  it  was  as  an  individual  that  she  received  him 
when  he  and  Hogo  and  Nanga  came  back  for  re- 
enrollment.  These  three  had  returned  to  her  at 
the  first  opportunity  granted  them.  Theirs  was 
something  of  the  air  of  conquerors,  mixed,  strangely 
enough,  with  a  curious  expression  that  was  half- 
pathetic,  half-childish.  With  them,  on  the  opening 
day,  came  Morita  and  Yaman,  boys  on  the  verge 
of  manhood,  smiling  happily,  though  obviously  ill 
at  ease.  Places  in  the  classes  were  found  for  them 
all,  as  satisfactory  as  their  ill-balanced  educations 
would  permit. 

It  was  not  an  easy  matter  to  teach  them  side  by 
side  with  little  children.  Miss  Tibbetts  found  the 
Japanese  always  requiring  special  care.  They 
learned  so  fast  that  as  soon  as  they  had  reached  the 
common  level  of  any  class  they  began  to  pull  away, 
to  work  for  promotion.  She  helped  them,  and  ad- 
vanced them  as  rapidly  as  she  could.     Then  there 

(232) 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

was  repeated  the  struggle  to  make  them  keep  up 
sufficiently  so  as  not  to  demoralize  the  new  class. 
Or,  as  often  happened,  they  were  kept  out  of  school 
for  days  at  a  time,  when  their  help  was  needed  on 
the  farms.  Dorothy  could  not  bear  to  see  them  lose 
standing  through  no  fault  or  their  own.  She  coached 
them  back  to  their  places,  without  realizing  that  the 
undue  attention  they  received  was  being  paid  for 
by  her  regular  scholars.  It  had  to  be  so,  unless  the 
Japanese  were  to  be  held  back  for  the  benefit  of 
the  whites.  In  the  very  nature  of  things  an  even 
balance  could  not  be  maintained.  She  did  not  segre- 
gate and  weigh,  and  then  deliberately  decide  that 
her  own  race  should  be  neglected  for  the  yellow. 
To  reason  on  such  an  occasion  would  have  been  for- 
eign to  her  nature ;  her  sympathetic  soul  simply  could 
not  see  aggregates  when  specific  cases  clamored  for 
her  assistance. 

So  she  could  not  understand  why  her  school  was 
not  running  smoothly,  why  her  standard  of  scholar- 
ship, one  that  had  repeatedly  won  commendation 
from  her  superiors,  was  rapidly  falling  below  the 
average  of  the  state.  She  did  not  blame  the  pupils, 
because  to  blame  did  not  come  easily  to  her;  instead, 
she  worried,  examined  herself  for  the  cause  of  the 
trouble,  and  worked  harder. 

Out  of  the  class  rooms  her  attitude  was  different. 
Donald  Scott  had  laid  out  a  course  of  conduct  to 
which  she  rigidly  adhered.  Of  her  own  volition 
she  could  not  have  refused  the  requests  of  her  alien 
pupils,  for  the  manner  in  which  they  made  them  and 

(233) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

the  resigned  acceptance  of  her  decisions  would  have 
over-ridden  any  resolution.  Donald  Scott  was  her 
rock  of  refuge.  She  had  been  told  by  him  to  do  cer- 
tain things,  and  she  obeyed,  for  in  her  weakness  she 
clung  to  his  rugged  strength,  not  venturing  to  take 
any  step  alone. 

Into  this  maelstrom  of  conflicts  and  perplexities 
came  Takase  and  Haragae.  Past  twenty-one  years 
of  age,  yet  so  fresh  from  their  native  country  were 
they  that  neither  of  them  understood  more  than  a 
word  or  two  of  spoken  English,  to  say  nothing  of 
reading  and  writing.  Hogo  had  to  act  as  inter- 
preter the  day  they  first  presented  themselves  to 
Dorothy,  asking  to  be  taught. 

Here  indeed  was  a  problem,  for  obviously  it 
would  not  do  to  put  these  men  in  the  kindergarten. 
Dorothy  did  not  shirk  her  responsibility,  she  prob- 
ably had  never  done  such  a  thing  in  her  life.  Sac- 
rificing her  own  leisure  in  the  most  matter  of  fact 
way,  she  promised  these  men  an  hour  every  after- 
noon. From  four  o'clock  to  five  every  school  day 
she  was  closeted  with  them,  teaching  an  alphabet 
to  men  who  had  not  known  that  one  existed;  teach- 
ing words  to  them  by  showing  a  picture  and  compell- 
ing reiteration  time  and  again  until  the  pronunci- 
ation was  correct  and  the  meaning  understood. 

So  the  weeks  passed  in  the  Rosario  school.  Ha- 
ragae had  gone  to  Los  Angeles  to  work  in  a  store 
with  his  father,  but  Dorothy  still  kept  Takase's  hour. 
For  even  after  she  had  taught  him  the  rudiments 
of  her  language  she  could  find  no  place  for  him  in 

(234) 


"The  time  spent  with  him  became  the  hours  to  which  she 
looked  forward." 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

her  classes.  He  often  sat  through  the  recitations 
in  subjects  other  than  English,  in  geography  and 
history  for  instance,  picking  up  what  knowledge  he 
could,  but  by  far  the  greater  part  of  his  time  he 
pored  over  the  special  lessons  that  had  been  laid 
out  for  him.  When  school  had  been  dismissed  he 
drew  a  chair  beside  Dorothy's  desk,  practiced  his 
English  with  her,  and  recited  his  lessons. 

His  progress  on  some  lines  was  slow,  especially 
in  grammar  and  in  the  construction  of  sentences. 
In  arithmetic,  for  instance,  and  less  so  in  several 
other  branches,  he  severely  taxed  Dorothy's  knowl- 
edge. And  with  his  insatiable  thirst  for  learning 
came  a  greed  for  Dorothy's  teaching,  so  that  he 
soon  acquired  the  habit  of  walking  home  with  her, 
adding  thereby  another  twenty  minutes  spent  in  re- 
hearing the  day's  lessons  or  perhaps  in  just  prac- 
ticing the  language. 

The  girl  was  being  flattered  as  she  never  had  been 
before.  To  be  able  to  help,  to  really  help,  such  a 
brain  as  Takase's,  to  supplement  his  cleverness  with 
her  education,  was  unction  to  her  soul.  That  he> 
actually  came  to  her  for  guidance  on  subjects  not 
directly  connected  with  the  school,  that  he  looked 
up  to  her,  needed  her,  and  accepted  her  pronounce- 
ments as  final,  gave  to  their  intercourse  a  strong 
personal  element.  The  time  spent  with  him  became 
the  hours  to  which  she  looked  forward,  the  hours 
that  brought  rest  from  the  petty  worries  of  her  life. 
There  was  no  curtain  of  color  or  creed  separating 

(235) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

their  minds,  or  marring  the  intercourse  that  was  a 
little  private  matter  just  between  these  two. 

It  was  Mrs.  Hastings  who  first  suggested  that 
Dorothy  Tibbetts  was  seen  too  often  in  Takase's 
society.  It  was  Bessie  Scott  who  heard  her  say  so, 
and  straightway  the  mother  in  the  latter  turned  her 
into  the  champion  of  the  teacher.  Mrs.  Scott  ex- 
plained in  detail  just  what  were  the  relations  between 
the  two. 

"You  see  it's  simply  a  matter  of  her  teaching 
him,"  she  concluded. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  think  she  could  possibly  be 
interested  in  him,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Hastings.  "Nd 
nice  girl,  brought  up  as  she  has  been,  could  ever 
care  for  a  Japanese  farm  hand.  Nevertheless,  she 
is  a  woman  and  he  is  a  man,  and  as  long  as  they 
are  together  so  much  there  is  bound  to  be  talk.  She 
is  all  alone  with  him  in  the  empty  school  building 
every  afternoon,  for  goodness  knows  how  long. 
When  I  passed  them  coming  home  yesterday  they 
didn't  look  to  me  like  people  who  were  going  over 
lessons." 

"That's  perfectly  ridiculous.  The  very  idea  of 
gossiping  about  anyone  as  pure-minded  as  Dorothy, 
especially  when  she  is  only  teaching.  She  doesn't 
want  those  boys  in  her  school,  she  is  compelled  to 
have  them." 

"All  the  same  there  is  a  great  deal  of  uneasiness 
in  this  valley  over  so  many  girls  and  so  many  Japa- 
nese being  together.     Miss  Tibbetts  should  be  par- 

(236) 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

ticularly  careful  to  set  an  example.     I  really  think 
you  should  speak  to  her." 

"She  is  doing  nothing  that  I  don't  know  all  about 
and  thoroughly  approve." 

Nevertheless,  Bessie  did  repeat  this  conversation 
to  Dorothy.  Mrs.  Scott  had  been  as  gentle  as  pos- 
sible, for  she  wished  to  discount  the  expected  tears 
and  repentance.  Imagine  her  surprise  when  the 
young  woman  simply  laughed  about  it.  The  turn- 
ing of  the  rabbit  to  fight  the  hound  seemed  no  more 
unnatural  than  the  disregarding  by  this  timid  girl 
of  the  opinions  of  those  about  her.  Bessie  was  wise 
enough  not  to  press  the  matter,  but  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity she  laid  her  suspicions  before  her  husband. 

"Mrs.  Hastings  has  been  talking  nonsense  to  you 
until  you  are  hysterical,"  said  Donald.  "Then,  be- 
cause the  child  doesn't  take  it  as  seriously  as  you, 
you  think  all  manner  of  things  of  her.  The  way 
she  acted  shows  that  you  can  trust  her." 

"Donald,  you  must  stop  her." 

"Why?" 

"Because  of  what  Mrs.  Hastings  says,  and  be- 
cause she's  saying  it." 

"I'll  tell  Dorothy,  if  you  want  me  to,  that  she 
must  give  up  this  work  out  of  hours.  We  can  let 
her  down  easily.  I  wouldn't  hurt  her  feelings  for 
the  world,  but  we  can't  have  people  saying  unkind 
things  about  her." 

"It's  not  safe  to  go  to  her  at  all." 

"Why?" 

(237) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Because  I'm  afraid  she  wouldn't  obey  you." 

"What  do  you  mean?   Do  you  think — " 

"Yes,  Donald,  I  do." 

"Bessie,  I'm  positively  ashamed  of  you.  I  know 
that  most  women  say  things  like  that,  but  for  you, 
why  it  doesn't  sound  at  all  like  my  Bessie." 

"I  love  the  girl  every  bit  as  much  as  you  do,  Don- 
ald. I  know  more  about  this  than  you,  because  I'm 
a  woman,  and  I  think  it's  my  right  to  have  you  re- 
spect my  judgment." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  Donald  was 
clearly  beginning  to  worry. 

"Takase  must  quietly  disappear  from  Dorothy's 
life.  If  I've  done  her  an  injustice  this  will  do  no 
harm.  But  if  I'm  right  any  open  opposition  would 
be  dangerous,  for  it  might  bring  matters  to  a  head, 
and  Dorothy  is  just  the  girl  to  be  very  obstinate  if 
her  affections  are  engaged.  Besides,"  Bessie  hur- 
ried on,  for  she  saw  that  her  husband's  anger  was 
again  rising,  "the  more  quietly  the  situation  is  ended 
the  sooner  will  unpleasant  comment  die  down." 

"How  would  you  go  about  it?" 

"I  believe  you  could  interest  Dr.  Hollington." 

"Why  Hollington?" 

"They  say  it's  his  fault  that  the  Japanese  are  in 
the  school.  Whether  it  is  or  not  he  might  feel  some 
responsibility.  Takase  is  a  cousin  or  something  of 
Saishoto.  Perhaps  the  doctor  could  persuade  Sai- 
shoto  to  tell  Takase  to  give  up  his  studying  alto- 
gether and  go  back  to  work." 

(238) 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

"It  may  be  that  you  are  right,  Bessie.  This  isn't 
at  all  the  way  I  would  go  about  it,  but  as  you  said 
awhile  ago,  you  know  a  great  deal  more  about  such 
things  than  I.  We  will  find  out  right  away  what 
Hollington  will  do." 

A  few  days  later  Dorothy  came  home  as  soon  as 
school  was  over.  "I've  lost  my  special  student," 
she  explained.  "He's  reached  a  point  where  he  can 
go  on  by  himself  now.  He's  going  to  work  for 
Saishoto  for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  he  is  to  open  a 
store  in  Seattle." 

"I'm  very  glad  for  your  sake,  Dorothy.  You 
have  been  working  too  hard.  I  hope  after  this  that 
you  will  be  able  to  spend  more  time  out  of  doors." 

"Oh,  I  have  no  time  to  play,  Mrs.  Scott,  I  have 
allowed  my  wardrobe  to  become  all  run  down,  so 
I'm  going  to  do  a  lot  of  sewing  now.  But  in  the 
daytime  I'll  take  my  basket  out  under  the  trees; 
the  air  might  make  me  look  and  feel  a  little  fresher." 

As  the  days  went  by  Bessie  Scott  had  to  accept  a 
good  deal  of  sarcasm  from  her  husband.  He  admit- 
ted that  it  was  a  good  thing  for  all  concerned  to 
have  Takase  drop  out  of  their  lives,  and  he  admit- 
ted, too,  that  her  idea  of  sending  for  Hollington 
had  been  excellent.  But  to  have  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment that  Dorothy  could  possibly  lose  her  head  over 
her  pupil,  that  her  interest  in  him  had  been  love  in 
any  degree,  was  so  absurd  that  Donald  could  not 
forego  the  pleasure  of  unmercifully  teasing  his  bet- 
ter half. 

(239) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Does  she  act  lovelorn?"  he  would  ask.  "Have 
you  ever  seen  her  happier?  Would  she  sing  at  her 
work  if  she  were  eating  out  her  heart  for  any  man? 
I  see  Charlie  Essing  was  around  again  yesterday." 

And  poor  Bessie  had  never  a  word  to  say. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  there  drifted  back  to 
the  Scotts  the  story  of  Hollington's  interview  with 
Saishoto.  It  seems  that  it  had  not  been  pleasant, 
that  there  had  been  some  feeling  displayed  on  both 
sides  during  the  discussion.  The  doctor  had  laid 
the  whole  matter  before  Saishoto  as  tactfully  and 
as  considerately  as  possible,  and  had  requested  that 
the  unpleasant  situation  be  ended.  Saishoto  had 
been  very  much  hurt  to  learn  that  Miss  Tibbetts' 
friends,  the  white  people  in  general,  should  regard 
Takase's  friendship  as  something  undesirable.  It 
was  an  insult  to  the  Japanese  race,  which  Saishoto, 
ever  their  champion,  resented.  Since  he  could  not 
or  would  not  be  mollified,  Hollington  told  him 
frankly  that  while  before  the  law  their  equality 
would  be  recognized,  when  American  womanhood 
was  involved  there  could  be  no  quibblings  and  no 
pretense.  Saishoto  stubbornly  refused  to  change  his 
ground;  to  do  so,  he  argued  vehemently,  would  be 
to  admit  once  for  all  that  his  was  an  inferior  race. 

Hollington  took  and  firmly  maintained  the  atti- 
tude that  no  question  of  superiority  was  involved, 
that  the  point  at  issue  was  only  the  unquestionable 
one  that  there  was  a  difference.  Definitely  and  pos- 
itively Robert  insisted  that  the  Japanese  in  Rosario 

(240) 


DOROTHY  TEACHES  SCHOOL 

must  recognize  the  fact,  and  that  this  was  as  good 
a  time  as  any  for  them  to  do  so.  His  domineering 
strength  carried  his  point  eventually,  but  Saishoto, 
thought  beaten  into  submission,  yielded  with  such 
poor  grace  that  the  friendship  between  the  two  be- 
came strained. 


(241) 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Frances  Comes  Home 

|~T  was  at  the  supper  table  in  his  own  home,  the 
-*-  day  after  Frances'  return,  that  Sam  Coulters  told 
her  the  inside  story  of  why  Tower  had  resigned 
from  the  board  of  school  trustees,  had  sold  out  to 
Hanba,  and  left  the  valley. 

"All  because  he  wouldn't  send  Edith  and  Virginia 
to  school,"  commented  Mary  Coulters.  "It  seems 
as  though  there  ought  to  have  been  some  other  way." 

"I  can't  think  that  what  he  did  was  for  the  best, 
yet  there  are  others  who  not  only  do  so  believe,  but 
are  very  apt  to  follow  his  example." 

"It's  just  like  a  pestilence  carrying  away  people 
one  likes.  I'm  almost  afraid  to  ask  you  to  whom 
you  refer,  just  as  I  would  be  if  you  had  told  me  that 
someone  was  dead,"  said  the  daughter. 

"Fulton  Graham  and  Mrs.  McClure  have  both 
been  to  see  Hanba  within  the  past  few  days,  and 
I  know  that  there  are  others  who  are  thinking  of 
doing  the  same." 

"You  must  go  to  those  others,  Sam.  Show  them 
that  they  are  making  a  mistake.  I  can't  reason  the 
matter  out  in  your  orderly  way,  but  I  do  know  that 
what  they  are  doing  is  all  wrong,  that  they  can  pro- 
tect their  girls  without  having  to  give  up  their 
homes."     Mary's  heart  was  in  her  words. 

"I've  seen  every  one  who  has  a  daughter  over 
(242) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

ten  in  that  school.  Fortunately  there  are  not  many. 
And  of  them  not  more  than  four  or  five  families  will 
leave  the  valley." 

"Who  are  hesitating?"  Frances  asked. 

"It's  better  not  even  to  mention  their  names  at 
present.  I've  shown  them  how  easily  the  Japanese 
can  be  kept  away  from  the  girls,  how  safe  the  chil- 
dren can  be  on  their  way  to  and  from  school.  The 
board  of  trustees  will  lay  out  certain  rules  to  be  fol- 
lowed, which  it  can  easily  enforce,  for  it  would  be 
only  too  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  expel  those  boys, 
one  after  another.  I  have  met  every  objection  that 
has  been  raised,  for  I  have  never  had  an  easier  task 
than  to  talk  down  those  parents.  Unfortunately, 
winning  the  debate  from  them  does  not  keep  them  in 
Rosario." 

"I  know  better  than  you  why  it  does  not.  I, 
too,  am  a  woman  and  a  mother.  If  the  girls  are 
where  the  danger  is,  every  instinct  in  the  parent's 
nature  is  up  in  arms,  clamoring  for  the  removal  of 
the  children,  not  merely  to  a  point  of  safety  but  clear 
away  from  the  source  of  contamination." 

"If  people  are  frightened,  father,  and  in  a  panic, 
you  can't  hope  to  influence  them  with  reason." 
Frances  showed  her  concern.  "I'm  going  to  see 
Mrs.  Graham  and  Mrs.  McClure,  not  to  argue  with 
them,  but  to  try  to  get  them  quieted,  so  that  they 
can  think  the  matter  out  for  themselves.  They're 
not  really  thinking  at  all  just  now." 

"What  can  one  do  about  it?"  Mary  asked  hope- 
lessly. 

(243) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"The  little  fire  has  to  burn  itself  out.  We  can 
do  nothing  more  to  allay  the  school  trouble,  for  the 
damage  is  done.  I'm  waiting  now  until  the  new 
law  goes  into  effect;  then  I  think  we'll  find  ourselves 
safe  and  the  Japanese  about  to  be  relegated  back 
where  they  belong.  We  have  team  play  again  in 
Rosario.  Everyone  seems  hopeful,  and  try  as  he 
may  I  don't  believe  that  Hanba  will  pick  up  many 
farms  in  the  next  few  weeks;  there  are  too  many 
working  against  him." 

No  one  commented  on  these  remarks,  so  the  meal 
proceeded  in  silence,  broken  at  last  by  Ruth. 

"I  wonder  if  Robert  Hollington  is  as  much  to 
blame  as  people  say?" 

The  poor  girl  would  have  given  anything  to  have 
been  able  to  recall  the  question.  Sam's  face  turned 
to  a  mask  at  the  mention  of  the  name.  Mary's  was 
overrun  with  anxiety,  and  Frances — she  tried  to  sit 
it  out,  yet  it  was  only  a  moment  before  she  had 
found  an  excuse  for  leaving  the  room.  Ruth  fol- 
lowed, to  undo  as  much  as  she  could,  so  the  discus- 
sion ended  for  the  present. 

The  next  morning  the  two  girls  hurried  through 
their  household  duties,  the  dishes,  the  beds,  and  the 
dusting.  Then,  true  to  Frances'  promise  they  went 
to  see  Mrs.  McClure.  While  Ruth  was  tying  the 
horse,  two  small  children  tore  around  the  corner 
with  an  affectionate  welcome.  Frances  grabbed  both 
of  the  infants,  squeezing  and  kissing  them  in  turn, 
for  they  had  long  been  her  special  favorites.  The 
foster  mother,  still  wearing  an  apron  and  holding 

(244) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

a  damp  tea  towel,  came  rushing  through  the  kitchen 
door.  She  threw  her  arms  about  Frances,  gathered 
her  to  her  ample  bosom,  while  the  light  in  the 
widow's  face  told  more  than  any  words  could  have 
done,  how  delighted  she  really  was. 

And  then  from  across  the  fields  came  Alfred  Car- 
roll. "I  recognized  the  buggy,"  he  said,  "before 
I  heard  those  little  rascals  squeal.  They  told  me 
you  were  here  so  I  had  to  drop  everything  to  come 
over  to  let  you  know  how  glad  we  all  are  that  you 
are  home  again." 

"It's  splendid  to  be  here.  How  well  you  are 
looking.  And  those  babies  of  yours;  it  does  my 
heart  good  to  see  them." 

"We've  been  a  different  family  since  they've  been 
living  on  this  place.  Sometimes  I  don't  know  which 
to  thank  more,  Mrs.  McClure  or  Dr.  Hollington." 

"How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  farm  work?" 
Ruth  was  usually  quiet  when  in  a  group,  speaking 
only  if  she  had  cause.  The  expressions  of  each  of 
the  other  women  made  imperative  a  change  in  top- 
ics, and  Ruth  was  quick-witted  enough  to  turn  the 
conversation. 

"The  trees  are  looking  fine,"  said  Carroll,  "but 
of  course  there  are  troubles.  There  always  are  in 
fruit  growing.  I've  found  more  scale  than  I  like  to 
see,  and  the  skins  of  the  oranges  are  not  as  I  want 
them  to  be.  But  spray  will  fix  one  and  potash  the 
other.  The  most  serious  problem  just  now  is  water. 
Our  greatest  trouble  is  over,  for  these  Japanese  can't 
absorb  any  more  of  us." 

(245) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  wish  that  were  so,"  half  murmured  the  widow. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Carroll. 

"There's  still  the  interval  before  that  law  goes 
into  effect,"  said  Mrs.  McClure. 

"And  Hanba  is  going  to  use  every  means  he 
knows  to  get  as  much  land  as  he  wants  before  it  is 
too  late,"  added  Ruth.  "Everyone  must  be  on  his 
guard  the  next  few  weeks,  for  as  father  says,  there's 
apt  to  be  some  pretty  tricky  plays." 

"So  Mr.  Coulters  says  there  are  apt  to  be  some 
tricky  plays?"  Mrs.  McClure  asked  sarcastically. 
"How  about  the  tricky  plays  that  have  already 
been?" 

"Do  you  mean  Dr.  Hollington?"  asked  Carroll, 
angrily. 

"Yes,  I  mean  Dr.  Hollington,"  answered  the 
widow,  looking  Alfred  squarely  in  the  face. 

"I  will  not  let  you  say  such  things  about  him, 
after  all  he  has  done  for  me  and  for  you  and  for 
all  of  us." 

"Well,  what  has  he  done  for  you  and  for  me  and 
for  all  of  us?"  Mrs.  McClure  knew  her  opponent 
could  not  bear  this.  "He  told  you  you  were  a  crazy 
fool  and  you  were.  Plenty  of  other  people  have 
told  you  the  same  thing.  As  for  me  and  Rosario, 
why  he  has  turned  against  his  own  people,  his  neigh- 
bors and  his  friends — " 

"He  has  not!"  Carroll  was  so  enraged  that  he 
could  scarcely  articulate. 

The  woman  was  too  quick  for  him.  "He  has 
shown  the  Japanese  how  to  make  Eden  Valley  a 

(246) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

place  where  white  people  can't  live,  and  I,  for  one, 
am  going  to  get  out." 

"He  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  it — " 

"Nothing  more  than  everything.  Who  told  those 
men  to  go  to  their  consul?  Who  furnished  the 
proofs  for  them?  Who  puts  all  these  ideas  in  their 
heads?  Whose  lead  do  they  follow  in  everything?" 

"I'm  going  to  take  my  children  away  from  you, 
you  are  not  fit — " 

"You  can't  help  taking  them,  for  I  will  not  stay 
here  one  minute  longer  than  I  have  to.  Your  Dr. 
Hollington  has — " 

"Now  you  know,  Mrs.  McClure,  you're  not  going 
to  leave  us."  It  was  not  until  Frances  had  inter- 
vened with  her  quiet  voice  that  the  others  realized 
how  loud  and  angry  their  tones  had  become. 

"I  am,  just  as  soon — " 

"You  dislike  Hanba  and  the  Japanese  very  much, 
do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  and  Dr.  Hollington  for  his — " 

"It  doesn't  matter  who's  to  blame.  It's  your  own 
self  you  must  consider.  We'll  leave  Dr.  Hollington 
out." 

"Oh,  I  forgot."  Mrs.  McClure  wilted  so  sud- 
denly and  pathetically  that  Ruth  only  with  difficulty 
was  able  to  suppress  her  laughter. 

"Are  you  sending  Sadie  to  school?" 

"No."     It  was  a  very  subdued  and  quiet  answer. 

"Do  you  know  that  the  other  mothers  are  sending 
their  daughters?" 

"Mrs.  Graham  and  Mrs. — " 
(247) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"The  other  mothers  are;  perhaps  not  every  one. 
They  believe  when  men  like  my  father  and  Donald 
Scott  promise  to  protect  the  children  that  there  is 
no  danger.  You  should  have  more  faith  in  your 
own  people  instead  of  allowing  yourself  to  be  fooled 
by  Hanba.  Whatever  else  you  do,  keep  your  house 
until  you  see  what  is  going  to  happen." 

"But  if  I  do  not  sell  to  Hanba  now  I  never  can." 

"Your  farm  will  never  be  worth  less  than  Hanba 
is  offering  you,  and  it  may  sometime  be  worth  a 
great  deal  more." 

Ruth  had  done  her  share  towards  ending  the  quar- 
rel by  talking  to  Carroll  about  his  children.  Soon 
Mrs.  McClure  was  interested  as  much  as  Alfred, 
and  the  bitterness  between  them  disappeared  as  it 
had  done  many  a  time  before. 

Frances  and  Ruth  made  their  excuses,  so  Carroll 
untied  their  horse  while  they  climbed  into  the  buggy. 
"You  will  not  do  anything  hasty,  will  you?"  Frances 
asked  the  widow.  "Think  it  all  over,  and  then  use 
your  imagination.  Picture  what  is  to  become  of  you 
and  Sadie,  and  of  the  two  children." 

The  girls  drove  towards  the  Graham  place.  Fran- 
ces was  having  a  hard  time,  and  Ruth  knew  some- 
thing of  her  heartache,  and  her  longing  to  go  to 
the  man  in  trouble  and  bring  him  sympathy  and 
comfort.  The  younger  sister  respected  the  long 
silences  that  came  so  frequently;  she  felt  that  she 
could  offer  no  greater  help  than  to  be  with  the  other 
as  much  as  possible,  and  to  talk  only  when  words 
seemed  best.     So  the  two  were  sitting  each  busy 

(248) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

with  her  own  thoughts  when  they  came  face  to 
face  with  Donald  Scott. 

He  was  homeward  bound,  driving  four  horses, 
his  big  farm  wagon  loaded  to  its  capacity  with  bales 
of  red  oat  hay.  On  recognizing  the  girls  he  stopped 
his  team,  set  the  brake  with  his  foot,  and  fastened 
the  lines  about  its  lever,  then  climbed  down  from 
his  high  seat.  In  welcoming  Frances  he  was  as 
demonstrative  as  his  nature  ever  permitted  him 
to  be. 

"From  some  of  the  stories  I  heard  I  was  afraid 
we  were  going  to  lose  you,"  he  said.  "It  would  in- 
deed be  a  pity  if  any  child  of  Sam  Coulters  should 
not  be  here  when  the  law  goes  into  force." 

"It  will  make  a  great  difference,  will  it  not,  Mr. 
Scott?" 

"It  has  already  done  so.  For  instance,  at  Naga- 
saki—" 

"Nagasaki?" 

"That  is  what  they  call  the  colony  around  the  old 
Packhard  homestead,  just  as  they  have  given  the 
nickname  Tokio  to  the  place  where  Saishoto  lives, 
and  Yokohama  to  the  plague  spot  that  started  when 
Delaque  sold.  As  I  was  about  to  say,  before  Gra- 
ham sold  his  place — " 

"Have  the  Grahams  sold?"  Frances  did  not  at- 
tempt to  conceal  her  disappointment.  "We  were  on 
our  way  to  see  them,  to  try  to  persuade  them  not  to 
give  up  just  yet.  And  now  they  have  sold.  It's  too 
bad." 

"It  is  pretty  bad  for  Hancock,  and  it  may  be  for 
(249) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

me.  Arthur  and  I  had  both  counted  on  being  safe 
from  ever  having  the  Japanese  as  neighbors.  You 
remember  our  farms  lie  in  a  row;  mine,  then  Ar- 
thur's, then  Fulton's,  then  Norton's,  and  then  the 
first  of  the  Japanese." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  Frances  interrupted.  "But 
what  has  happened?  When  I  left  home  the  Nortons 
were  supposed  to  be  as  dependable  as  you  or  father, 
and  to  have  money  enough  to  protect  themselves." 

"Hanba  bought  the  mortgage  on  the  Ellis  piece. 
He  forced  Ellis  to  sell  by  threatening  foreclosure." 

"Ellis,  too?  I  hadn't  heard  of  that." 

"So  Norton  was  surrounded  on  two  sides,  and 
when  the  Grahams  let  go  there  was  nothing  for  him 
to  do  but  make  the  best  terms  with  Hanba  that  he 
could.  That  puts  Arthur  next  to  the  infection  and 
he  becomes  the  only  protection  that  I  have  left.  So 
you  see  why  we  two  are  glad  that  the  new  law  takes 
effect  so  soon." 

"Will  it  make  you  safe?" 

"Absolutely.  Almost  without  exception  Hanba 
has  played  the  game  of  late  as  he  did  with  Ellis. 
But  he  will  buy  no  more  mortgages;  he  could  not 
use  them  if  he  did.  There  is  no  conceivable  way 
by  which  he  can  reach  either  Arthur  Hancock  or 
me  before  the  first  of  the  month.  And  if  he  leaves 
us  alone,  Arthur  and  me  and  every  one  else  in  this 
valley,  we  will  not  lose  our  farms.  Speaking  for 
us  all,  if  there  is  no  interference  we  can  borrow 
money,  get  an  extension,  and  do  business  as  we  al- 
ways have  done.     Those  who  have  Japanese  neigh- 

(250) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

bors  are  still  going  to  suffer  hardship,  but  now  that 
the  incentive  has  been  taken  away  from  the  trouble 
makers  there  will  be  no  more  freezing  out.  So  you 
see  why  all  Rosario  is  grateful  to  your  father,  and 
has  taken  on  a  holiday  spirit." 

"How  is  your  school  progressing?  I  have  been 
talking  to  Mrs.  McClure,  and  she  does  not  think 
it  safe  for  her  Sadie." 

"It'll  all  work  out  in  time.  Dorothy  is  doing 
splendidly,  so  there  is  no  criticism  from  Sacramento, 
and  not  very  much  from  the  valley.  We  are  proud 
of  her  for  being  able  to  keep  everyone  so  well 
satisfied." 

"Tell  her  I'm  coming  over  to  see  her  and  Mrs. 
Scott  as  soon  as  I  can  spare  the  time.  I  shall  tell 
father  what  you  said  about  him  and  how  you  feel. 
He's  sure  to  be  pleased." 

The  girls  decided  not  to  make  their  call  on  the 
Grahams,  but  to  go  directly  to  Edward  Winfield. 
On  the  way  they  met  several  old  friends.  The  San- 
fords  were  even  more  enthusiastic  over  the  future 
than  Donald  had  been,  and  they  cited  several  in- 
stances showing  how  the  heart  was  coming  back  to 
Eden  Valley.  Irving  Stanhope  affected  more  than 
his  usual  dignity  as  he  greeted  the  girls  with  his  old 
fashioned  courtesy.  Nevertheless,  he  brought  the 
same  tidings  of  good  will  towards  their  father  and 
of  growing  cheer  in  Rosario. 

"One  of  the  finest  things  I  ever  knew  a  man  to 
do  was  Mr.  Coulters'  refusal  of  that  commissioner- 
ship,"  said  the  minister. 

(251) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"What  was  that?"  Ruth  asked. 

"It's  so  like  him,  not  to  have  told.  Rutherford 
White  and  the  governor  offered  him  a  place  on  the 
highway  commission.  It  would  have  been  very  con- 
genial work,  have  given  him  a  position  in  the  world, 
and  have  paid  him  well.  He  didn't  accept  because 
he  felt  that  it  would  conflict  with  his  duty  towards 
the  settlement.  That  was  such  a  noble  act  that  I 
shall  mention  it  in  my  sermon  on  Sunday.  He  seems 
to  feel  more  strongly  even  than  Hollington  that 
though  an  obligation  be  voluntarily  assumed  it  must 
be  carried  through  without  regard  to  personal  con- 
sequences." 

Frances  could  not  answer  such  a  remark  aloud, 
and  it  began  to  come  to  her  that  she  could  not  answer 
it  to  herself.  Reason  on  it  she  could  not,  she  wil- 
lingly admitted.  It  must  be  a  demand  her  heart 
could  not  put  into  words,  for  a  love  that  would 
come  to  her  without  restrictions.  She  regarded  the 
relationship  between  her  father  and  mother  as  per- 
fect, yet  she  well  knew  that  if  the  husband  had  re- 
fused this  appointment  from  a  sense  of  duty,  noth- 
ing the  wife  could  say  would  make  him  alter  his 
decision.  That  was  not  lack  of  loyalty,  that  was 
not  relegating  love  to  second  place.  Was  it  for 
those  characteristics  that  the  minister  had  praised, 
Frances  wondered,  the  very  qualities  that  made  her 
heart  glow  with  affectionate  pride,  that  she  exalted 
one  man  and  condemned  the  other?  Training  and 
heredity  told  her  there  was  a  difference. 

She  was  so  fond  of  Edward  Winfield,  so  thor- 
(252) 


FRANCES  COMES  HOME 

oughly  glad  to  see  him  again  and  to  find  him  at 
least  as  strong  as  when  she  had  left,  that  these  wor- 
ries and  misgivings  slipped  into  the  background. 
She  had  many  messages  from  Mrs.  Charleton  to  de- 
liver to  the  brother,  much  to  recount  of  the  life  in 
San  Clemente,  many  inquiries  to  make  regarding  the 
health  and  the  plans  of  the  invalid.  Ruth  entered 
into  the  long  conversation  that  ensued  only  as  polite- 
ness demanded.  The  young  girl  was  realizing  how 
greatly  those  few  weeks  had  changed  Frances,  and 
Edward's  attitude  also.  For  the  older  two  met  on 
a  plane  much  nearer  equality  than  ever  before,  and 
spoke  familiarly  to  each  other  of  things  which  were 
fascinating  to  Ruth  and  yet  far  beyond  her  compre- 
hension. In  her  own  home  Frances  had  been  the 
Frances  of  old,  with  no  appreciable  difference  in 
thought  or  habit,  but  in  Winfield's  presence  she  was 
the  Frances  that  Mrs.  Charleton  had  brought  out, 
the  girl  about  whom  all  San  Clemente  had  gone 
wild.  And  Ruth,  for  the  first  time,  was  seeing  the 
emergence  of  the  chrysalis. 

On  his  side,  Edward  saw  a  vindication  of  his 
prophesies,  and  understood  better  what  lay  behind  a 
number  of  letters  he  had  received  from  his  sister. 
Frances  alone  was  serenely  unconscious.  She  was 
radiant,  as  a  result  partly  of  the  reaction  from  the 
temporary  morbidness,  partly  from  pleasure  in  find- 
ing Rosario  so  complacent  and  so  grateful  to  her 
father,  and  partly  from  accumulating  evidence  of  the 
sincerity  that  underlay  the  country  friendships.  Each 
member  of  the  little  gathering  was  happy  in  his  own 

(253) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

way,  each  felt  that  the  best  that  was  in  him  was 
coming  to  the  surface,  and  each  was  disappointed 
when  the  visit  ended,  when  it  became  necessary  for 
the  girls  to  go  home  to  prepare  the  supper. 

"Do  not  be  an  idealist,  Ruth,"  Frances  broke  out 
on  the  way.  "If  you  should  ever  learn  to  love  a 
man,  take  his  love  if  you  want  happiness.  Search 
for  microscopic  flaws  if  you  must,  but  do  not  let  your 
mind  run  away  with  your  heart  as  I  have  done,  or 
you  too  may  find  yourself  tangled  within  the  meshes 
of  a  net  from  which  you  cannot  free  yourself.  I 
want  to  go  to  him,  Ruth,  now,  while  he  is  in  trouble 
and  needs  a  comforter.  I  want  to  look  into  his  eyes 
and  say,  'I  love  you  for  what  you  are,  and  I  accept 
you  for  what  you  are.'  But  something  is  in  the  way, 
something  I  cannot  get  around,  something  I  cannot 
even  comprehend,  something  that  makes  it  impos- 
sible. It  is  nothing  as  small  as  pride  or  obstinacy, 
it  must  be  that  I  am  so  wrapped  up  in  idealism  that  I 
cannot  be  satisfied  even  with  the  finest  man  I  have 
ever  known.  Yet  that  does  not  seem  to  explain  it. 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  understand!"  And  the  poor  girl 
broke  down. 

She  pulled  herself  together  presently,  as  she  felt 
Ruth's  arm  slipping  about  her.  "I  feel  better  for 
having  said  this  to  you,  dear,  but  I  want  you  to 
promise  never  to  speak  of  it  to  me." 

And  Ruth,  with  love  and  sympathy  in  every  line 
of  her  face,  kissed  her  and  gave  the  promise. 


(254) 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Black  Scale 

WHEN  spring  came  to  Eden  Valley  it  brought 
vigor  to  the  trees,  it  added  shoots  to  the 
branches,  it  changed  buds  into  leaves  and  fruit.  But 
as  prosperity  is  ever  a  loadstone  to  greedy  outsiders, 
so  the  fresh,  strong  growth  did  not  escape  the  para- 
site.    Rosario  was  invaded  by  the  black  scale. 

There  are  many  insects  that  prey  upon  the  citrus. 
There  is  the  gnat-like  white  fly,  the  red  spider  and 
the  silver  mite,  the  citriocola  scale,  the  black,  the 
purple,  the  brown,  the  red,  the  yellow,  the  greedy, 
the  oleander  and  the  cottony  cushion  scale,  all  of 
which  feed  upon  the  sap  of  the  trees.  It  seems  to 
be  universal  that  whatever  lives  upon  the  labors  of 
others  does  so  by  taking  only  the  choicest,  discard- 
ing the  rest  and  destroying  much  to  obtain  little. 
The  tortrix  bores  into  the  fruit  just  through  the 
rind;  the  rose  beetle  feeds  at  night  upon  the  tender 
growth  of  young  trees;  the  diabrotica  can  eat  the 
orange  only;  the  mealy  bug  and  the  aphids  add  their 
toll. 

Of  them  all  the  black  scale  is  the  most  widely 
distributed  and  through  force  of  numbers  the  most 
destructive.  Like  all  the  other  insects  mentioned  it 
is  highly  specialized,  it  can  feed  only  upon  certain 
trees  and  can  withstand  only  certain  climatic  con- 
ditions.   Therefore,  in  some  localities  it  is  unknown, 

(255) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

or  so  scarce  as  to  be  negligible,  in  others  it  may 
lie  unheeded  season  after  season,  only  to  become  a 
terrible  scourge  when  conditions  meet  its  require- 
ments. 

The  egg  is  so  small  that  a  hundred  placed  in  line 
would  not  exceed  one  inch  in  length.  For  twenty 
days  these  eggs  are  incubating,  becoming  darker  as 
they  change  from  a  pearly  white  to  pink,  and  from 
pink  to  red.  The  young  remain  in  the  pod  a  day 
or  two,  then  having  gained  full  strength  emerge 
and  swarm  along  the  branches  until  they  reach  the 
leaves.  Some  three  months  later  their  beaks  will 
have  strenthened  sufficiently  to  pierce  the  bark  of 
the  limbs  as  well  as  the  tissue  of  the  leaves,  and 
so,  to  avoid  the  certainty  of  death  should  the  latter 
fall,  the  still  immature  scale  begin  to  congregate  on 
the  branches  of  the  tree.  Here  eventually  the  in- 
sects attain  their  full  development,  the  male  emerg- 
ing from  the  pupa  with  antennae,  legs  and  wings. 
The  female  is  a  little  black  round  shell,  in  length 
about  an  eighth  of  an  inch.  She  begins  to  deposit 
eggs  at  the  rate  of  thirty  to  forty  a  day,  continuing 
for  about  two  months.  Her  body  gradually  dries 
and  disappears,  until  she  eventually  becomes  nothing 
but  an  empty  pod  to  contain  her  young.  And  so 
the  life  cycle  is  completed. 

This  simple  little  history,  however,  is  interwoven 
with  wide-spreading  complications.  Just  as  the  scale 
preys  upon  its  host  and  has  developed  itself  to  take 
full  advantage  of  every  weakness  of  the  tree,  so  a 
horde  of  enemies  have  arisen  which  attack  the  black 

(256) 


THE  BLACK  SCALE 

scale  at  every  stage,  insects  upon  whom  have  grown 
instruments  fitted  for  that  one  purpose.  There  are 
others  who  do  the  scale  no  direct  injury,  yet  whose 
lives,  in  whole  or  in  part,  are  dependent  upon  it. 

For  instance,  the  scale  excretes  a  sweet,  sticky 
substance  called  honey  dew.  It  appeals  to  the  ants, 
who  climb  the  trees  in  countless  hordes  to  add  it 
to  their  larders.  Too  impatient  at  times  to  await 
nature's  course,  they  tickle  and  tease  the  scale  to 
hurry  the  excretion.  There  is  a  saprophyte  which 
finds  in  the  honey  dew  a  very  suitable  medium  for 
its  growth.  This  fungus  literally  covers  the  trees 
with  a  sooty  mold  and  with  black  vegetative  threads. 

There  are  flies  and  beetles  which  live  upon  the 
black  scale,  which  can  sustain  life  and  propagate 
in  no  other  way.  The  scutellista  is  a  wonderful 
example  of  such  specialization.  This  little  fly,  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  in  length,  crawls  among  the  scale 
pods,  slips  an  egg  under  one  of  them,  moves  to 
another,  to  repeat  the  process  several  hundred  times. 
As  soon  as  they  hatch  her  larvae  begin  to  devour 
the  eggs  within  the  shell,  by  means  of  sharp  chiti- 
nous  hooks  designed  specially  for  that  purpose.  Six 
generations  in  a  season,  food  and  nesting  place  pro- 
vided, it  seems  a  simple,  easy  life.  But  if  you  stop 
to  reflect  that  the  progeny  of  one  fly  in  a  year  could 
account  for  a  column  of  scale  as  tall  as  a  man,  of 
the  same  width,  and  extending  from  the  Atlantic 
to  the  Pacific,  you  must  realize  that  the  fate  of 
nearly  every  fly  is  quite  the  reverse  of  a  happy  one, 
it  is  death  by  starvation.     And  if  that  were  not 

(257) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

enough,  there  is  the  cerchysius,  a  hyperparasite, 
whose  egg  is  also  placed  under  the  scale  pod,  and 
whose  larvae  devour  that  of  the  scutellista.  Truly 
man  sets  up  a  wonderful  chain  of  interrelations 
when  he  plants  an  orange  tree  in  his  front  yard. 

There  are  other  parasites  to  the  number  of  a 
dozen  or  more,  and  there  are  the  predatory  insects, 
beetles  that  not  only  feed  on  the  unhatched  eggs 
but  even  pursue  the  young  scale,  seizing  them  upon 
the  leaves  or  the  stems.  The  rhizobius  and  the 
ladybird  kill  in  immense  numbers,  but  where  a 
mother  scale  hatches  as  many  as  three  thousand 
young  their  capture  one  by  one  is  a  slow  means  of 
extermination. 

Speaking  generally,  insects  live  either  upon  veg- 
etable matter  or  upon  each  other,  and  all  the  former 
are  preyed  upon  by  some  form  of  the  latter  which 
have  developed,  through  a  process  of  evolution,  cer- 
tain attributes  that  meet  the  special  conditions  under 
which  the  vegetarians  live  and  breed.  Were  this 
not  so  the  incredible  fecundity  of  the  insect  world 
would  soon  divest  the  earth  of  every  living  grass 
and  tree.  But  such  a  system  of  control  is  not  one 
suited  to  the  maintaining  of  an  even  balance.  For 
as  the  so-called  host,  if  the  slaughter  is  unchecked, 
must  be  overtaken  by  the  enemy,  there  is  bound  to 
come  a  time  when  there  are  not  enough  to  go 
around.  The  parasites  hunt  desperately  in  every 
nook  and  cranny  for  food  for  themselves  and  their 
offspring,  until  the  last  of  their  prey  is  gone,  where- 

(258) 


THE  BLACK  SCALE 

upon  they  themselves,  unable  to  utilize  other  insects, 
die  by  unnumbered  billions. 

If  the  tragedy  were  complete  both  species  would 
disappear  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  there 
are  always  a  few  survivors,  and  then  it  is  that  the 
vegetable  eaters  may  run  away  from  their  control. 
That  they  will  be  overtaken  again  is  a  certainty. 
This  may  come  about  almost  at  once,  it  may  come 
with  regularity  at  the  end  of  the  season,  or,  depend- 
ing on  how  great  a  start  was  had,  it  may  not  come 
until  the  land  has  been  visited  by  a  terrible  plague. 

The  fruit  growers  of  Eden  Valley  did  not  choose 
to  let  nature  take  its  course,  for  they  needed  their 
fruit,  and  it  must  come  out  clean  and  spotless.  So 
they  started  arrangements  to  spray.  Sam  Coulters 
took  the  lead  in  this,  as  he  always  had  done,  because 
one  of  the  prime  requisites  was  that  everyone  must 
join,  and  Sam's  ability  to  force  unanimous  action 
was  generally  recognized.  Such  conditions  had 
arisen  before  so  often,  that  the  falling  into  line  had 
become  a  habit.  Refractory  farmers  there  had 
been,  but  such  had  learned  their  lessons  years  ago, 
when  neighbors  brought  to  bear  more  pressure  than 
anyone  could  withstand.  Now  there  was  none  to 
say  no  when  Coulters  gave  the  word  that  on  a  cer- 
tain day  spraying  should  commence. 

Saishoto,  as  spokesman  for  the  Japanese  colony, 
had  had  matters  explained  to  him.  It  was  hard  to 
make  him  fully  understand  the  situation,  and  his 
people,  who  could  better  afford  it  than  any  of  the 
whites,  demurred  at  the  expense.     But  the  prepa- 

(259) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

rations  went  on,  pending  the  time  when  the  Japanese 
should  be  persuaded  or  compelled  to  do  their  share. 
There  was  nothing  in  their  attitude  to  indicate  a 
final  refusal,  and  instances  were  known  to  all  Rosa- 
rians  of  Sam's  heavy  hand  falling  upon  obstinate 
slackers  who  had  loudly  proclaimed  that  no  one 
could  make  them  act  against  their  will. 

The  best  means  by  which  to  kill  the  black  scale 
is  still  a  matter  of  opinion.  There  are  sprays  with 
poison  in  solution,  sprays  of  dry  powder,  as  lime 
and  sulphur,  sprays  of  emulsions,  kerosene  and  dis- 
tillate; there  are  soaps  and  mixtures  and  washes 
without  limit.  The  principle  of  applying  them  is 
always  the  same.  On  a  wagon  bed  is  mounted  a 
small  gasoline  engine,  attached  to  a  pump  and  to  a 
tank  in  such  a  way  that  several  nozzles  at  the  end 
of  pieces  of  hose  throw  a  fine  spray.  Usually  there 
are  four  of  these,  with  a  man  and  a  row  to  each 
stream.  While  a  team  slowly  drags  the  outfit 
through  the  orchard  the  trees  are  drenched,  one 
at  a  time,  in  an  effort  to  kill  every  living  thing  upon 
them. 

Such  had  been  the  custom  in  Rosario.  But  this 
season  there  was  less  than  two  years'  growth  upon 
the  trees,  so  fumigation  was  to  be  adopted.  The 
method  is  to  throw  over  a  tree  a  gas  proof  bag,  and 
fill  the  covering  with  hydrocyanic  acid  gas.  This 
is  the  most  expensive,  but  under  proper  conditions 
by  far  the  most  effective  means  of  clearing  the  or- 
chard of  its  pests.  A  specially  designed  machine 
known  as  a  cyanofumer  is  used,  and  the  work  gen- 

(260) 


THE  BLACK  SCALE 

erally  done  at  night,  and  proceeds  rapidly  once  a 
good  outfit  has  been  assembled.  As  the  cost  of  the 
latter,  including  tents,  is  upwards  of  a  thousand  dol- 
lars, one  outfit  was  bought  for  the  valley  and  the 
expense  equally  divided. 

Saishoto  still  held  back.  At  first  he  had  had  to 
consult  Hanba,  whose  answer  was  noncommittal. 
The  other  Japanese,  as  was  to  be  expected,  would 
do  nothing  without  their  leader.  While  there  was 
being  made  this  unsatisfactory  effort  to  compel  an 
answer,  actual  fumigation  was  started.  Clem  Hard- 
ing's place  was  the  first  to  be  treated,  for  it  was 
on  the  extreme  western  edge  of  the  valley.  The 
scale  could  make  no  headway  against  the  prevailing 
west  wind,  and  so  if  all  the  work  were  done  down 
the  wind,  the  clean  trees  could  not  be  infected  from 
the  ones  that  had  not  been  reached. 

The  time  was  approaching  rapidly  when  some 
action  must  be  taken  regarding  Tokio,  the  name 
now  given  to  the  settlement  about  the  former  War- 
ner homestead.  So  Coulters  went  to  Hollington. 
For  the  first  time  since  that  memorable  night  of  the 
abortive  lynching,  Sam  deliberately  sought  out  the 
doctor,  one  of  the  few  men  whom  he  really  hated. 
Since  this  had  to  be  done  for  the  sake  of  Rosario 
Sam  put  his  pride  to  one  side  to  perform  the  task 
in  person,  respect  for  himself  as  well  as  his  enemy 
dictating  that  there  should  be  no  emissary. 

"I  came  to  see  if  you  could  help  the  people  of 
this  valley."  The  old  pioneer  was  very  formal  and 
polite.     "We're  fumigating  for  black  scale,  and  it's 

( 261 ) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

necessary  that  the  Japanese  join  us.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  they  would  if  we  could  put  the  matter 
up  to  them  properly.  That  has  been  our  difficulty, 
and  that's  why  we  need  your  assistance.  You  under- 
stand them  and  know  how  to  handle  them,  which 
none  of  the  rest  of  us  do." 

Robert  met  his  visitor  on  absolutely  neutral 
ground.  "I'm  afraid  you  all  overrate  my  influence, 
still  I'll  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can.  But  you  know 
that  I  can't  argue  convincingly  with  them  knowing 
as  little  about  the  thing  as  I  do.  I  will  go  with  you 
to  see  Saishoto  now,  if  you  choose,  and  perhaps 
together  we  can  accomplish  something." 

But  the  Japanese  proved  obdurate.  The  net  re- 
sult of  a  long  argument,  which  took  up  every  phase 
of  the  scale  question,  was  the  final  refusal  of  the 
Asiatics  to  either  fumigate  or  spray,  now  or  later. 
Saishoto  was  thoroughly  posted  on  the  peculiarities 
of  the  parasite.  He  knew  that  before  long  the  or- 
chards would  be  practically  cleared,  especially  if 
there  were  nothing  to  drift  in  from  the  outside.  He 
made  Sam  admit  that  the  most  serious  damage  that 
would  be  done  in  the  interim  would  be  the  staining 
of  the  fruit  by  the  fungus  on  the  honey  dew,  result- 
ing in  a  serious  cut  in  price,  if  not  an  actual  refusal 
to  purchase  by  the  packers.  He  was  himself  trapped 
into  confessing  that  the  reason  he  wouldn't  fumigate 
was  because  the  Japanese  had  decided  among  them- 
selves to  save  expense  by  handwashing  their  fruit 
at  night. 

"Whether  he  can  or  not,  I  know  we  can't  afford 
(262) 


THE  BLACK  SCALE 

to  do  that,  for  it  would  eat  up  all  our  profits.  I 
know  the  only  reason  he  can  is  because  we  are  fumi- 
gating all  about  him.  If  he  were  only  a  white  man 
I  would  have  him  in  line  or  out  of  this  valley  within 
twenty-four  hours.  But  these !  We  are  not  people 
who  lie  down  and  quit,  we  are  not  weak  enough  or 
simple  enough  to  be  run  over  by  a  crowd  like  that. 
You  know  them.  I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  if 
you  will  tell  me  how  to  get  at  them." 

"There  is  no  way." 

Once  the  heat  of  his  anger  had  passed,  Sam 
brought  himself  to  the  footing  on  which  he  had 
first  met  Robert.  He  thanked  the  doctor  on  part- 
ing, in  a  more  than  perfunctory  way,  for  the  effort. 
Hollington  waved  the  thanks  aside,  regretted  that 
he  had  been  unable  to  be  of  any  assistance,  and 
promised  to  hold  himself  ready  should  his  services 
ever  be  needed. 

Whatever  the  ultimate  effects  of  Saishoto's  action 
might  be,  the  immediate  result  was  trouble  for  Sam. 
There  were  twelve  men  whose  places  on  the  east  or 
southeast  adjoined  Japanese-owned  farms.  With- 
out exception  these  men  rebelled.  They  argued  that 
as  their  groves  would  soon  be  infected  they  could 
not  afford  to  pay  their  share  of  fumigation,  and 
demanded  that  the  whole  proceeding  be  stopped. 
On  the  other  hand,  those  who  had  gone  in  in  good 
faith  simply  could  not  be  induced  to  agree  to  a 
larger  assessment,  nor  could  proceedings  end,  be- 
cause a  considerable  acreage  had  already  been  cov- 

(263) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ered,  the  machinery  had  been  bought  and  used,  and 
large  amounts  of  chemicals  had  been  consumed. 

Coulters  worked  it  out,  but  it  taxed  his  authority 
to  the  breaking  point.  He  explained  to  the  manu- 
facturers than  the  withdrawal  of  the  Japanese  had 
left  him  hopelessly  short  on  funds,  and  was  able  to 
obtain  an  extension  of  time.  He  persuaded  the  big 
drug  house  to  wait  for  its  money,  and  he  held  their 
written  agreements  up  to  the  recalcitrants  in  the 
valley,  until  the  last  one  had  surrendered.  Then 
he  went  after  Hanba,  but  here  he  was  confronted 
by  an  economic  condition.  The  white  men  could 
not  afford  to  hand-wash,  so  they  had  fumigated. 
It  therefore  became  slightly  cheaper  for  the  Japa- 
nese to  clean  the  fruit  than  to  fight  the  scale,  fig- 
uring, as  they  did,  that  their  night  work  was  costing 
them  but  little — it  represented  added  labor  rather 
than  added  outlay.  Over  and  over  the  ground  Sam 
went,  trying  to  arouse  that  patriotism  for  which  the 
Japanese  were  famous.  But  unlike  emigrants  from 
Canada  or  from  Europe,  the  Mongolian  settlers 
had  no  affection  for  their  new  homes.  It  would 
have  been  strange  if  their  hearts  had  not  remained 
in  Nippon,  for  they  were  not  welcomed  in  this  new 
land  to  which  they  had  come,  nor  allowed  to  become 
a  part  of  the  people  already  there.  As  public  spirit 
neither  existed  nor  could  be  aroused,  as  threats  to 
men  of  such  dispositions  would  have  been  worse 
than  useless,  the  Japanese  had  to  be  allowed  to  fol- 
low out  their  selfish  inclinations. 

The  effect  upon  Rosario  was  slow,  but  it  was  very 
(264) 


THE  BLACK  SCALE 

far-reaching.  It  ultimately  brought  bankruptcy  to 
at  least  half  a  dozen  families,  and  seriously  crippled 
many  more.  In  a  thickly  settled  community  like 
Eden  Valley,  grove  adjoins  grove  so  closely  that  the 
rows  of  trees  are  often  not  over  thirty  feet  apart. 
The  prevailing  west  wind,  gentle  breeze  that  it  is, 
can  easily  carry  the  feathery  like  young  scale  to  far 
greater  distances  than  that.  The  young,  too,  crawl- 
ing about  blindly,  are  transplanted  on  the  feet  of 
birds  and  butterflies.  So  it  was  not  long  before 
great  parts  of  Rosario  were  again  infected,  before 
the  trees  took  on  the  sickly  color  that  comes  from 
the  sapping  of  their  strength,  before  the  honey  dew 
and  the  fungus  appeared  upon  their  leaves,  and  then 
upon  their  fruit. 

As  the  talk  about  this  whole  occurrence  spread 
through  the  valley,  there  developed  a  display  of  dis- 
appointment in  Hollington.  The  story  of  a  year 
before,  when  Robert  had  taken  Sango  from  a  house 
full  of  armed  men,  was  compared  with  his  failure 
in  this  instance.  He  was  known  to  have  had  some 
clash  with  the  Japanese  concerning  Takase.  So  on 
the  whole  Rosario  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Rob- 
ert's influence  over  the  Asiatics  was  disappearing. 

In  this  they  were  not  as  far  right  as  facts  ap- 
peared to  warrant,  although  there  was  a  decided 
tendency  that  way.  He  still  called  at  their  houses 
as  had  been  his  wont,  still  gave  advice  and  help 
when  it  was  wanted.  His  personal  friendship  for 
Saishoto  was  not  as  cordial  as  it  had  been,  and  a 
sense  of  loyalty  to  Frances  kept  him  from  noticing 

(265) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Kotingo  more  than  was  necessary.  Furthermore, 
the  Japanese  on  the  whole  were  rapidly  acquiring 
experience  which  gave  them  a  growing  confidence 
in  their  own  judgment.  In  such  cases  as  that  of 
fumigation,  for  instance,  they  were  now  willing 
to  consider  and  determine  things  for  themselves, 
whereas  a  year  before  they  would  have  followed 
Hollington  willingly. 

It  was  this  development  more  than  any  loss  of 
prestige  that  accounted  for  the  public  opinion  of 
Eden  Valley.  Hollington's  continued  visits  were 
puzzling  to  those  who  did  not  understand  the  man's 
nature,  who  did  not  know  that  he  would  do  the  best 
he  could  on  any  predetermined  course  of  conduct, 
be  that  best  great  or  small.  As  often  occurs  when 
people  in  numbers  are  puzzled,  all  sorts  of  wild 
conjectures  were  made,  even  Kotingo's  name  was 
mentioned  by  some. 


(266) 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Frances  and  Kotingo 

"ITERANCES  became  restive,  as  the  spring  merged 
■*■  into  summer.  Day  after  day  the  sky  was 
nearly  cloudless,  for  there  had  set  in  the  long  sum- 
mer drought  that  would  continue  until  late  in  the 
fall.  The  grain  fields,  turning  yellow,  were  being 
harvested,  and  the  plowing  under  of  the  cover  crops 
was  spreading  over  the  orchards  a  dull,  almost  col- 
orless mulch.  Everywhere,  except  in  the  trees 
themselves,  green  was  disappearing.  In  the  hills 
and  by  the  roadsides  the  native  grasses  were  with- 
ered, the  wild  flowers  disappeared  over  night,  and 
nature  prepared  herself  to  meet  the  bright,  dry 
days  that  were  to  come. 

Many  and  many  a  time  the  girl's  mind  reverted 
to  "Twilight  in  the  Rose  Garden,"  and  passed  on 
to  the  camps  of  the  Japanese.  There  slowly  grew 
a  desire  on  her  part  to  see  at  first  hand  the  home 
of  the  enemy,  the  house  that  Robert  visited,  the 
rock  on  which  her  romance  had  been  shattered.  She 
found,  among  many  other  reasons  for  gratifying 
herself,  the  thought  that  she  might  be  able  to  offer 
some  kindnesses  which  would  in  no  way  jeopardize 
the  interests  of  the  valley.  And  then  too,  if  she 
were  to  have  an  intelligent  understanding  she  must 
know  how  these  people  lived. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  to  explain  to  herself,  and 
(267) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

she  did  not  consult  her  family.  So  one  clear,  sunny 
day,  just  such  a  day  as  there  had  been  for  weeks, 
and  would  be  for  months  to  come,  she  threw  a 
bonnet  over  her  head  and  set  out  afoot  on  the  once 
familiar  way  to  the  Kraemer  place. 

It  was  warm,  but  not  unpleasantly  so,  for  the 
ocean  breeze  that  blew  the  year  around  maintained 
a  comfortable  temperature.  Frances  found  the  walk 
altogether  too  short,  for  once  her  destination  came 
clearly  into  view,  shyness  and  diffidence  assailed  her. 
She  resolutely  continued,  however,  and  soon  found 
herself  within  the  ruined  garden.  Here  a  curious 
spectacle  presented  itself.  On  one  side  of  the  house 
was  a  cheap  iron  bath  tub,  set  up  in  the  yard  without 
piping  or  plumbing  of  any  kind.  Within  it  could 
be  distinguished  the  naked  torsos  of  two  men,  while 
a  young  woman,  freely  conversing  with  them  from 
time  to  time,  fed  the  small  fire  that  warmed  the 
water. 

Frances'  resolution  wavered,  until  she  noticed 
that  the  little  scene  was  not  visible  from  the  front 
porch.  So  she  hurried  on  and  rang  the  doorbell. 
In  answer,  Kotingo  came  through  the  house,  brush- 
ing the  wood  dust  from  her  hands  and  shaking  drops 
of  water  from  her  skirt.  She  had  not  noticed  Fran- 
ces' approach,  and  was  taken  somewhat  by  surprise. 
These  two  women  had  never  seen  each  other  before, 
but  their  recognition  was  mutual  and  complete. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Frances  in  her  softest 
voice,  "I  came  over  to  see  if  there  is  anything  I  can 
do  for  you." 

(268) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

Kotingo  smiled  and  shook  her  head,  then  smiled 
again.  She  opened  the  door,  motioning  Frances  to 
come  in,  and  led  the  way  to  the  sitting  room.  Here 
she  offered  Frances  a  chair  and  seated  herself  in 
another;  this  much  of  western  civilization  she  had 
absorbed. 

"The  house  has  changed  a  good  deal,"  observed 
the  American,  looking  about  the  empty  room  and 
hallway.  Excepting  the  two  chairs  they  occupied 
the  front  part  of  the  building  was  as  empty  as  the 
Kraemers  had  left  it  when  they  moved  away  with 
all  their  household  effects.  The  accumulations  that 
come  into  untenanted  rooms  were  everywhere. 

Kotingo's  childlike' expression  turned  to  a  charm- 
ing frown.  "No  English,"  she  said.  Indicating  by 
gesture  that  she  would  return  she  left  the  room,  and 
presently  her  voice  was  heard,  calling.  She  was 
trying  to  throw  together  unfamilar  consonants  to 
form  the  word  "Johnnie." 

It  was  not  long  before  a  boy  of  twelve  put  in  an 
appearance.  He  was  barefooted,  dressed  in  full 
length  overalls  and  a  soft  tan  shirt,  just  as  any 
farmer  child.  While  he  explained  that  Kotingo  must 
watch  the  fire,  but  would  soon  return,  Frances 
studied  him  intently,  wondering  to  what  race  of 
mankind  he  belonged.  He  was  not  a  Japanese,  he 
was  not  a  Caucasian;  she  thought  of  unfamiliar 
Asiatic  peoples,  Malay,  or  Korean  or  Aino.  Then 
the  truth  flashed  upon  her.  She  saw  the  character- 
istics of  two  races,  and  she  realized  that  he  was  half 
Aryan  and  half  Mongolian. 

(269) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

The  Japanese  influence  was  predominant,  for  that 
side  of  his  ancestry  had  been  bred  true  to  type  cen- 
turies and  centuries  more  than  had  the  other.  The 
longer  such  a  process  continues  the  more  firmly  im- 
pregnated become  the  racial  traits,  while  on  the 
other  hand  stock  that  has  repeatedly  taken  in  new 
blood  has  no  tendency  to  uniformly  transmit  any 
qualities  not  common  to  all  the  forefathers.  It  is 
an  established  principle  of  animal  breeding  that  the 
thoroughbred  strain  will  prevail  over  the  mongrel, 
or  the  stronger  of  two  pure  breeds  over  the  weaker. 
The  same  truth  applies  to  human  beings,  for  after 
all,  the  body  in  which  we  dwell  is  purely  animal. 

So  there  were  in  this  Johnnie  the  cephalic  index 
of  the  yellow  race,  the  straight,  coarse  hair,  flat- 
tened nose,  the  almond,  sloping  eyes.  Yet  every 
feature  showed  a  little  of  the  white;  the  very  ease 
with  which  he  pronounced  English  words,  and  his 
occassional  gestures,  proclaimed  some  Saxon  blood. 

"Do  you  go  to  school?"  Frances  asked,  overcom- 
ing a  stifling  repugnance.  To  her  he  was  something 
unclean,  an  unnatural  violation  of  the  laws  of  the 
universe.  The  instinct  which  lies  against  mating 
with  one's  immediate  family  is  only  one  of  many 
formulated  to  preserve  the  race.  Perhaps  the  most 
horrible  thing  which  the  human  mind  can  conceive 
is  the  nearly  impossible  but  not  absolutely  unknown 
cross  between  man  and  beast.  Something  of  the 
inborn  horror  which  that  thought  induces  follows 
in  the  wake  of  a  half-breed  such  as  Johnnie,  whose 

(270) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

ancestral  traits  on  either  side  are  so  distinct  that 
a  compromise  between  them  is  impossible. 

"We  are  having  vacation,"  replied  the  boy.  He 
obviously  recalled  the  thoughts  of  school  life  with 
little  pleasure. 

"Do  you  live  in  Rosario?  I  have  not  seen  you 
before." 

"I  came  from  Los  Angeles  for  the  summer." 
Home,  too,  seemed  to  bring  back  unpleasant  recol- 
lections. So  the  tender  hearted  girl,  trying  to  find 
a  safe  subject,  asked  him  what  work  he  was  doing. 

"Grubbing  salt  bush,"  he  answered. 

"Do  you  like  Eden  Valley?"  She  was  thinking 
of  the  tenacious  vine,  half  as  large  as  the  child, 
which  clings  so  closely  to  the  tree  trunks  that  no 
plow  can  reach  it;  and  of  long  hours  spent  in  the 
sun  wielding  a  heavy  mattock. 

"I  like  the  work,"  he  said,  "but  not  the  people." 

"Are  you  not  treated  well?"   She  was  all  concern. 

"Nobody  wants  me."  He  was  responding  volu- 
bly to  the  first  kind  interest  he  could  remember. 
"The  white  men  say  that  I  am  nothing  but  a  dirty 
coolie,  they  will  not  speak  to  me,  and  their  children 
are  not  allowed  to  play  with  me." 

"And  your  own  people?" 

"Who  are  my  own  people?"  The  outcast  had 
brooded  so  long  over  what  he  was  saying  that  words 
came  easily.  "Those  I  live  with  are  all  too  proud 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  me;  even  my  mother's 
relatives  would  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  where  I  am. 
I  work  alone.     I  eat  alone.    If  I  try  to  talk,  no  one 

(271) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

answers;  if  I  try  to  play  no  one  will  let  me  come 
near." 

Frances  was  a  woman  before  she  was  a  philoso- 
pher. She  drew  a  poor,  crumpled,  weeping  lad  to 
her  lap,  and  tried  to  comfort  him,  while  there 
dawned  upon  her  an  entirely  new  point  in  this  com- 
plex situation.  The  south,  she  knew,  was  overrun 
with  half-breeds.  The  white  man  has  left  the  same 
trail  of  his  presence  scattered  to  the  four  corners 
of  the  earth.  But  the  superiority  of  the  conqueror 
is  always  recognized  and  accepted.  His  offspring 
is  raised  among  the  mother's  people  and  becomes 
one  of  them,  and  is  always  a  bit  more  respected  be- 
cause of  his  quota  of  the  nobler  blood.  Not  so  with 
these  proud  Japanese,  to  whom  their  own  race  su- 
periority was  a  fetish.  She  remembered  having 
heard  that  even  in  Hawaii  they  preserved  themselves 
pure  and  intact  to  an  incredible  degree.  Such  a  thing 
is  done  only  by  a  people  who  are,  or  believe  them- 
selves to  be,  vastly  superior.  Then  her  thoughts 
turned  to  the  Gulf  states  again,  and  she  was  trying 
to  picture  some  proud,  aristocratic  family  accepting 
a  mulatto,  when  the  boy  sprang  guiltily  to  his  feet, 
for  Kotingo  was  in  the  room. 

"She  says  that  I  am  to  translate  for  her,"  he  said, 
after  a  few  native  words  had  been  exchanged. 

"Tell  her  that  I  came  over  as  a  friend  to  see  how 
she  was  living  and  to  help  her  if  I  could." 

Kotingo's  welcome  was  warm  and  sincere.  She 
knew  there  was  almost  an  inconceivable  field  wherein 
the  American  could  instruct  her,  a  fact  which  neither 

(272) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

precedent  nor  the  vanity  of  her  people  forbade  her 
to  admit.  And  while  she  was  greedily  storing  her 
mind  with  countless  little  everyday  things  which  you 
and  I  have  grown  to  accept  as  matters  of  course, 
but  of  which  she  was  profoundly  ignorant,  Frances 
was  being  rewarded  by  accumulating  knowledge 
which,  though  hardly  useful,  was  picturesque  and 
interesting. 

There  were  the  chop-sticks,  for  instance,  used  by 
all  the  latest  arrivals.  Those  who  had  been  long  in 
this  country  had  adopted  our  cutlery,  a  fact  which 
was  a  distinct  disappointment.  Frances  had  un- 
knowingly counted  on  finding  a  bit  of  transplanted 
Japan,  while  for  the  greater  part  what  she  really 
saw  was  a  crude  attempt  to  imitate.  As  forks  had 
been  adopted  by  some  so  also  had  chairs.  Benches 
were  placed  beside  the  dining  table,  but  the  girl  did 
obtain  some  solace  when  she  learned  that  many  of 
those  who  used  them  sat  cross-legged. 

Out  of  respect  to  her  the  bathing  had  been  dis- 
continued, so  she  was  able  to  investigate  the  kitchen 
and  the  back  yard.  She  learned,  partly  from  obser- 
vation, partly  from  direct  questioning,  that  in  the 
care  of  their  bodies,  their  hair,  and  their  teeth,  these 
alien  settlers  were  infinitely  more  particular  than 
are  we.  With  their  linen  all  were  not  so  careful, 
but  here  again  the  matter  was  largely  determined 
by  the  length  of  time  the  individuals  had  been  in  this 
country. 

Frances'  interest  was  less  in  observing  how  far 
the  aliens  had  adopted  western  ways  than  in  search- 

(273) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ing  for  such  native  habits  as  they  might  still  retain. 
She  had  never  studied  them  particularly,  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  she  had  even  read  a  book  devoted  directly 
to  their  institutions,  but  Winfield  had  so  often  talked 
to  her  about  them  that  she  felt  herself  fairly  well 
acquainted  with  the  customs  and  habits  of  thought 
of  the  Japanese.  In  Edward  she  had  found  a  sym- 
pathetic critic.  He  was  too  clever  to  blind  himself 
to  their  shortcomings,  too  cosmopolitan  to  endow 
them  either  with  faults  or  virtues  they  did  not  pos- 
cess.     The  girl,  of  course,  reflected  his  views. 

The  Japanese  at  home,  as  a  nation,  are  sadly 
lacking  in  the  ability  to  cast  aside  serious  thoughts 
in  their  moments  of  leisure.  Their  pleasures 
and  recreations  are  heavy  and  ponderous,  but 
even  such  as  they  are,  they  had  not  been  brought 
across  the  ocean.  Attempts  to  adapt  themselves  to 
American  pastimes  were  hardly  successful,  for  our 
sports  have  been  evolved  to  meet  our  national  char- 
acteristics and  are  worth  while  only  if  they  become 
an  anodyne  for  troubles.  Perhaps  the  idea  could 
be  expressed  by  saying  that  our  object  is  to  become 
carefree,  theirs  to  attain  proficiency. 

Edward  had  many  times  pointed  out  to  Frances 
that  comparisons  between  the  two  countries  cannot 
be  other  than  unfair,  because  we  are  able  to  judge 
only  by  our  own  standards.  "Just  think  what  would 
happen,"  he  had  once  said  to  her,  "if  we  tried  to 
measure  ourselves  by  theirs.  Filial  devotion,  patri- 
otism, love  of  the  beautiful,  patience,  self-sacrifice 
and    perseverance,    piety,    ceremonial    observances, 

(274) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

and  courtesy,  the  world  at  large  concedes  that  those 
are  admirable  qualities.  Would  you  care  to  have 
the  two  civilizations  ranked  according  to  their  rela- 
tive observation  of  them?  Yet  that  is  just  as  reason- 
able as  to  pick  our  best  attributes  and  then  condemn 
the  Japanese  because  they  do  not  conform  to  them." 

The  quaint  and  the  picturesque  was  to  be  found 
in  abundance,  but  only  by  search  and  segregation 
from  the  sordid  commonplace.  Small  kegs  of  rice 
fastened  in  wisps  of  straw  certainly  held  fascinating 
suggestions,  but  the  effect  was  weakened  by  placing 
them  on  a  shelf  that  also  held  canned  tomatoes. 
Two  prints  brought  from  home  were  on  the  wall. 
One  of  these  showed  only  a  branch  with  the  moon 
in  an  upper  corner,  the  other  a  sloping  hillside  with 
a  solitary  tree.  If  one  could  disregard  the  other 
articles  in  that  dining  room,  there  stood  revealed 
the  handling  of  detail  and  the  daintiness  that  has 
made  the  Japanese  as  a  race  in  their  own  way  the 
most  artistic  in  the  world. 

In  the  bed  chamber  which  Kotingo  and  Saishoto 
were  fortunate  enough  to  have  to  themselves,  there 
was  nothing  not  purely  American,  and  yet  the  Japa- 
nese influence  was  so  strong  that  Frances  could 
almost  picture  herself  in  the  land  of  the  cherry  blos- 
som. On  a  cheap  pine  washstand  stood  a  vase,  a 
simple  one  of  clay,  costing  not  over  a  dime.  It  con- 
tained two  branches  of  honeysuckle,  one  of  which 
drooped  over  the  edge,  the  other  stood  erect  to  a 
height  somewhat  less  than  two  feet.  In  that  sim- 
plicity was  revealed  the  national  trait  in  art.     No 

(275) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

western  housewife  could  have  so  arranged  her  flow- 
ers. She  would  not  have  had  the  training  nor  would 
she  have  given  the  time  and  thought  necessary  to 
obtain  the  effect,  even  had  she  been  born  with  the 
requisite  eye  for  line  and  color.  So  it  was  with 
the  arrangement  of  the  furniture.  There  was  no 
overcrowding,  and  yet  the  concomitant  bare  spaces 
were  pleasing  and  restful.  Every  article  in  the  room 
bore  the  proper  relation  to  every  other,  revealing 
unlimited  patience  and  close  attention  to  detail  no 
less  than  a  highly  developed  temperament. 

Kotingo  opened  a  drawer,  to  show  the  few  simple 
possessions  she  had  brought.  A  carved  ivory  ele- 
phant was  typical  of  the  nation's  love  of  miniature. 
But  it  told  also  of  patience  and  care  almost  super- 
human, as  well  as  of  extraordinary  finger  skill  and 
technique.  So  it  was  with  a  couple  of  pieces  of  pot- 
tery and  a  bit  of  lacquer;  simplicity  in  every  sense, 
in  subject  and  treatment,  in  color  and  shape,  above 
all  in  arrangement.  The  greatest  of  her  treasures 
was  a  silk  kimono,  made  and  embroidered  by  hand. 
It  was  a  commentary  on  the  nation  that  produced 
it,  revealing  perseverance  and  attention  to  detail, 
artistic  perception  and  skill,  the  consideration  given 
small  things,  in  a  word,  the  soul  of  the  nation. 

As  Frances  wandered  homeward  she  pondered 
deeply  on  what  she  had  seen.  She  felt  that  she 
could  now  visualize  what  Edward  had  told  her,  that 
she  could  now  appreciate  the  best  that  was  in  these 
little  yellow  men.  And  that  best  was  not  to  be 
belittled.    Their  inconsistencies  perplexed  her,  their 

(276) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

extreme  frugality  on  one  hand  compared  with  a 
lavish  expenditure  of  time  on  the  other,  their  seri- 
ousness of  purpose  contrasted  with  their  carefree 
and  laughing  loving  natures.  She  was  gifted  with 
the  power  of  reason  far  more  than  are  most  women, 
and  her  thoughts,  running  here  and  there  at  random, 
eventually  brought  her  two  firm  convictions. 

The  first  of  these  was  that  a  greater  appreciation 
of  the  Japanese  did  not  entail  a  lessened  antipathy 
for  them  as  neighbors  and  competitors.  More 
clearly  than  ever  did  she  understand  the  injury  they 
could  do  her  beloved  California,  injury  without 
recompense,  for  while  the  nobler  attributes  were 
'undisputedly  lovely,  by  their  very  nature  they  were 
incapable  of  being  transmitted  to  or  uplifting  the 
whites. 

The  other  picture  was  an  unlessened  repugnance 
of  Johnnie.  For  years  the  shock  of  meeting  him 
had  its  effects  on  her  sensitive  nature,  nor  could  she 
hear  any  reference  direct  or  indirect  to  the  assimila- 
tion of  the  Japanese  without  there  being  recalled 
the  horror  of  her  first  impressions. 

The  result  of  the  morning  was  to  leave  her  more 
firmly  convinced  than  ever  that  the  interlopers  were 
an  unmitigated  injury  to  the  Pacific  coast.  And 
granting  the  premises,  she  could  not  see  why  they 
should  be  allowed  to  settle  here,  for  she  did  not 
recognize  any  obligation  on  her  part  to  sacrifice 
herself  for  them.  And  if  the  truth  be  told,  there 
are  millions  of  others  who  are  wondering  why  west- 

(277) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ern  America  should  be  called  upon  to  help  support 
Nippon. 

Youth  and  springtime  swung  her  thoughts  to  her- 
self and  to  Robert.  Without  weakening  any  of  her 
own  beliefs,  the  morning  had  brought  her  a  greater 
sympathy  with  his  point  of  view.  It  was  not  that 
she  was  seriously  considering  any  change  in  her 
own  conduct,  it  was  rather  that  she  was  understand- 
ing better  why  Robert  had  found  his  own  course 
so  imperative.  She  was  still  weighing  the  matter 
in  her  mind  when  she  arrived  at  her  home. 

Ruth  was  in  the  kichen  preparing  lunch.  So 
Frances  promptly  filled  a  pan  with  potatoes,  which 
she  proceeded  to  peel. 

"I've  done  something  this  morning  which  will 
surprise  you,"  said  the  elder  sister,  with  a  reminis- 
cent look  in  her  eyes. 

Ruth  was  reaching  into  the  closet  for  some  plates. 
"What  was  it?"  she  asked,  her  mind  on  her  work. 

"I  went  to  Yokohama  to  make  a  call  on  Kotingo." 

The  younger  sister  almost  dropped  her  handful 
of  dishes.     "Why?"  was  all  she  could  articulate. 

"Because  I  wanted  to."  There  was  no  rebuff  in 
the  answer. 

Ruth  emptied  her  hands  and  came  across  the 
room.  "Now  tell  me  why?"  she  coaxed.  "Was 
Robert  there?" 

"No,"  half  angrily. 

"But  he'd  something  to  do  with  it." 

"Nothing  at  all.  I  went  because — oh,  well,  I 
don't  know,  because — " 

(278  ) 


FRANCES  AND  KOTINGO 

"Never  mind,  I  know  why.  Are  you  two  going 
to  make  up?" 

"I'm  not  even  considering  it." 

"I  believe  you  are."  Ruth  gave  her  an  affection- 
ate hug,  and  added  as  an  afterthought,  "I  hope 
you  do." 

But  then  she  could  not  foresee  any  distractions  or 
complications. 


(279) 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Dorothy  Tibbetts'  Wedding 

'  A  CCORDING  to  the  law  of  chances,"  said 
■*"*■  Edward  Winfield  to  Billy  Evans,  "supposing 
it's  one  in  five  hundred  that  when  a  white  girl  and  a 
yellow  man  are  thrown  into  contact,  he  will  do  her 
some  mental  or  physical  injury;  then  if  there  are 
nine  Japanese  in  a  school  with  twenty-eight  girls, 
the  chance  of  some  regrettable  occurrence  becomes 
a  trifle  greater  than  one  to  two.  If  you  assume  that 
this  is  annual,  in  a  five  year  period  the  chance  of 
an  unfortunate  happening  becomes  over  seven  to 
one,  or  almost  a  certainty." 

"How  do  you  figure  that?"  asked  Evans. 

"It's  simple  mathematics." 

"Where  do  you  get  your  starting  point,  your  one 
chance  in  five  hundred?" 

"I  have  to  assume  that.  Just  balance  in  your 
mind  one  against  five  hundred,  concentrate  on  what 
a  difference  there  is  between  the  two,  remember 
what  you  know  of  the  morals  of  one  side  and  the 
youthful  foolishness  of  the  other,  and  you  will  have 
to  admit  that  my  assumption  is  conservative." 

"You're  right,  unquestionably,"  said  the  engineer. 
"What  conclusion  do  you  draw?" 

"Only  this,  that  every  few  years,  from  almost 
every  school  situated  as  is  ours,  there's  going  to  be 
a  terrible  heart-break  in  some  family.    Mothers  will 

(280) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

persist  in  exposing  their  daughters,  or  rather  the 
nation  compels  them  to  do  so.  The  very  people 
who  most  obstinately  blind  themselves  to  the  facts 
are  the  ones  to  be  most  volubly  shocked  at  the  work- 
ing out  of  the  laws  of  the  universe." 

"Then  you  think  that  something  will  happen  in 
Rosario?" 

"Seven  chances  out  of  eight,  Billy.  There  isn't 
a  ripple  on  the  surface  today,  but  no  one  knows  how 
rapidly  we've  been  exhausting  our  factors  of  safety." 

"We've  already  had  one  regrettable  happening," 
Bill  objected. 

"You  mean  when  Sango  frightened  Ruth  Coul- 
ters? That  hardly  counts,  for  it  was  a  misunder- 
standing all  around." 

"It  didn't  seem  such  a  trivial  matter  at  the  time." 

"My  one  in  a  hundred  means  something  real,  not 
just  a  mistake." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  Japanese  question? 
You  appear  to  have  studied  it  deeply." 

"There  is  just  one  solution,  unless  the  west  is  to 
have  a  far  more  serious  race  problem  than  the  south. 
This  country  has  to  recognize,  and  make  other 
countries  accept  the  fact,  that  it  is  a  question  of 
race,  not  of  citizenship.  If  we  pass  a  law  which 
prohibits  all  people  of  Asiatic  blood  from  coming 
to  this  country,  from  settling  here  or  owning  land, 
and  do  so  frankly  because  they  are  Mongolian, 
Malay,  or  Hindu,  we  are  not  excluding  the  citizens 
per  se  of  any  country.  If  a  large  proportion  of  the 
Japanese   and   Chinese   are   Mongolians,   that  is   a 

(281) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

mere  coincidence.  We  will  always  welcome  such 
of  them  as  are  of  Indo-Aryan  origin.  We  will 
exclude  all  Japanese,  whether  they  are  citizens  of 
Japan  or  not,  all  Chinese,  whether  citizens  of  China 
or  not,  all  Malays  and  Indians,  whether  citizens  of 
Great  Britain  or  not,  but  we  most  decidedly  do  not 
exclude  all  citizens  of  Japan,  China,  or  Great  Brit- 
ain. Citizenship  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  every 
nation  in  the  world  is  treated  alike." 

"But  they  tell  us  that  if  we  do  so  and  stick  to  it, 
Japan  will  declare  war,"  Billy  suggested. 

"There  is  far  smaller  probability  of  war  if  we 
act  at  once  and  are  consistent,  than  there  would 
be  with  a  million  or  two  Japanese  on  our  coast,  for 
the  more  of  them  there  are  the  more  is  their  com- 
petition felt,  the  more  desperate  the  whites  become 
the  greater  grows  the  friction,  and  hostilities  thereby 
become  a  certainty,  for  sooner  or  later  her  people 
will  suffer  affronts  that  Japan  will  not  overlook." 

"How  about  our  own  citizens  who  are  of  Japa- 
nese blood?  They  are  being  born  here  by  the  thou- 
sand every  year." 

This  conversation  ended  with  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  Frances  Coulters.  Evans  sprang  to  his  feet, 
even  Winfield  endeavored  to  rise,  while  both  looked 
at  the  girl  for  an  explanation. 

"It's  about  Dorothy  Tibbetts,"  Frances  began 
breathlessly.  "Mrs.  Scott  was  looking  for  some 
old  patterns  of  hers  in  Dorothy's  room,  and  came 
across  a  bundle  of  letters,  all  in  one  handwriting 
and  all  postmarked  Seattle.     The  addresses  looked 

(282) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

so  queer,  so  unlike  any  other  writing  she  had  ever 
seen,  that  Mrs.  Scott  became  suspicious.  She 
opened  one  of  the  leters  and  read  it.  They  were  all 
from  Takase;  Dorothy  is  to  meet  him  in  Seattle, 
to  marry  him." 

Frances  dropped  into  a  chair  and  began  to  weep 
quietly.  "She  is  such  a  sweet  girl,"  she  managed 
to  say. 

"What  are  your  father  and  mother  doing?"  Ed- 
ward asked  her. 

"Father  had  some  business  in  San  Diego  and 
mother  went  with  him.  Ruth  and  I  were  alone 
when  Mrs.  Scott  came  over,  and  I  didn't  let  my 
sister  hear  a  word." 

"How  about  Donald?" 

"Bessie  has  gone  for  him,  but  he's  in  Eulalia 
looking  at  pasture.  It'll  be  hours  before  they  get 
back.     So  I  came  to  you." 

"Drive  Frances  over  to  the  school,"  said  Win- 
field  to  Evans.  "I  believe  she  can  talk  Dorothy 
out  of  this  and  no  one  in  Rosario  ever  be  the  wiser. 
If  you  can't  do  that,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the 
girl,  "under  no  circumstances  let  her  leave  you  until 
Donald  returns.  Billy  will  help  you  if  necessary. 
Now  hurry,  but  before  you  go  tell  me  where  I  can 
find  Dorothy's  mother." 

"She's  in  the  town  of  Glendale,  north  of  Los 
Angeles." 

"Do  you  know  her  first  name?" 

"No,  Dorothy  has  never  mentioned  it  to  me." 
(283) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Never  mind,  I  will  reach  her  any  way.  That's 
all.     You  won't  forget  what  you  have  to 'do?" 

"You'll  find  us  together  no  matter  where  she 
goes." 

Winfield  summoned  his  nurse  as  soon  as  they  had 
left  him.  "Daggett,  run  down  to  the  village  as  fast 
as  you  can.  Get  the  Los  Angeles  Taxicab  Co.  on 
the  telephone,  ask  for  Mr.  Reardon,  and  tell  him 
to  find  a  Mrs.  Tibbetts  in  Glendale.  The  Mrs.  Tib- 
betts  we  want  is  the  mother  of  our  school  teacher. 
Have  him  tell  her  that  she  must  drop  everything 
and  come  at  once,  because  her  daughter  needs  her 
terribly.  Tell  Reardon  to  disregard  all  speed  laws, 
and  to  bring  the  old  lady  here  just  as  fast  as  he  can. 
He  knows  me  and  he  will  do  precisely  what  he's 
told.  Then  try  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Tibbetts  over  the 
wire.  Tell  her  who  I  am,  that  I  cannot  explain  to 
her,  for  I'm  not  even  telling  you.  Do  you  under- 
stand what  to  say  to  her?" 

"Yes  sir,  I  think  so,  sir." 

"As  you  go  out,  tell  Val  to  answer  my  bell.  It's 
a  fine  thing,"  he  contiued  to  himself,  "to  be  as  help- 
less as  a  baby  in  such  an  emergency  as  this.  Well, 
Mrs.  Tibbetts  should  be  here  between  three  and 
four,  Donald  will  be  back  about  the  same  time,  and 
Frances  won't  leave  Dorothy.  I  know  the  breed. 
If  that  little  teacher  slips  by  all  those  people,  Billy 
and  I  will  stop  her  by  force  if  necessary.  The  most 
that  can  be  done  to  us  is  to  be  fined  a  few  dollars 
for  abduction  or  false  imprisonment,  or  whatever 
it  will  be  called.     If  she  should  escape  us  all  and 

(284) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

leave    Rosario,    Sam    could    still    stop    her    in    San 
Diego. 

"So  much  for  the  time  being,  but  this  must  be 
made  a  permanent  job.  Allowing  everything  pos- 
sible for  the  girl's  being  in  love,  I  am  sure  she  can't 
stand  up  against  the  battery  that  is  to  open  on  her 
this  afternoon.  Some  women  might,  but  never  Dor- 
othy. Still  it  can  do  no  harm  to  have  a  couple  of 
detectives  shadow  her  for  the  next  few  months, 
although  I  know  that  it's  not  necessary.  In  the 
meantime,  I'll  get  a  report  on  this  Takase.  I'll 
buy  him  off  in  some  way  if  I  can.  As  a  last  resource, 
I'll  have  him  deported,  on  a  trumped  up  charge  if 
I  have  to.  After  all,  money  and  influence  are  good 
things  to  fall  back  upon  at  times." 

When  Frances  and  Billy  reached  the  school  house, 
Dorothy  was  not  to  be  found.  She  had  gone  home 
during  the  morning  recess,  they  learned,  and  was 
still  away. 

The  children  didn't  know  what  to  do,  so  they  were 
playing  about  listlessly,  waiting  for  their  teacher. 
Without  delay  Frances  and  her  escort  drove  to 
Donald's  home,  watching  for  Dorothy  on  the  way. 
They  didn't  meet  her,  neither  was  she  at  the  Scott 
place.  After  a  hurried  search  of  the  empty  house, 
Frances  rushed  upstairs  to  Dorothy's  room.  It 
looked  as  though  a  tornado  had  swept  through  it. 
Drawers  were  opened  and  half  emptied,  articles  of 
wearing  apparel  were  scattered  about  indiscrimi- 
nately, the  closet  door  was  ajar,  furniture  was  awry, 
everything  indicated  frantic  haste. 

(285) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"She's  gone,"  panted  Frances,  hurrying  back  to 
the  buggy.  "Drive  to  the  station  as  fast  as  you  can. 
She  must  have  seen  that  her  letters  had  been  opened, 
and  so  she's  running  away." 

"The  train  has  already  gone,"  said  Evans,  look- 
ing at  his  watch. 

"Never  mind,  it  may  be  late.  And  anyway,  we 
must  make  sure." 

They  missed  the  train  by  many  minutes.  The  sta- 
tion-master told  them  that  Dorothy  was  aboard. 
She  had  driven  up  with  one  of  Donald's  horses, 
which  the  agent  had  obligingly  promised  to  return 
in  the  evening.  She  had  brought  three  heavy  suit 
cases,  for  he  remembered  helping  her  put  them  on 
the  car,  and  he  had  sold  her  a  one  way  ticket  to 
San  Diego.  It  had  all  seemed  very  queer  to  him, 
but  he'd  not  felt  that  it  was  his  place  to  ask  questions. 

"It's  not  altogether  unfortunate  that  your  father 
is  in  San  Diego,"  said  Billy.  "Do  you  know  where 
we  can  reach  him  at  this  hour?" 

"He'll  be  at  the  King  Philip  hotel.  Drive  back 
to  the  village." 

Frances  was  nearly  wild  before  she  was  in  com- 
munication with  the  hotel. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Bredford?"  she  asked.  "Frances 
Coulters  is  speaking.  Is  my  father  there?  My 
mother,  then?  Do  you  know  where  they  are ?  Could 
you  find  them  if  you  sent  out  for  them?  Are  you 
sure?  Then  I'm  going  to  trust  you  with  a  message. 
You  will  absolutely  never  mention  it  to  a  soul? 
Thank  you,  I  know  you  will  not.    Write  this  down : 

(286) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

'Our  school  teacher,  Miss  Tibbetts,  left  Rosario 
for  San  Diego  on  the  noon  train.  She  is  running 
away  to  marry  Takase,  a  Japanese  store-keeper  in 
Seattle.'  Father  and  mother  must  meet  that  train, 
and  they  must  stop  her.  Oh,  will  you  really?  I  can 
never  thank  you  enough.  You  do?  Well,  good- 
bye, and  thank  you  again." 

"He  says,"  Frances  had  replaced  the  receiver  and 
turned  to  Billy,  "that  since  it's  so  very  important 
he'll  turn  the  desk  over  to  his  clerk,  and  find  father 
himself.     Mr.  Bredford  is  so  nice." 

From  the  time  that  Mrs.  Scott  had  burst  in  with 
the  agonizing  news  until  Dorothy's  flight  was  dis- 
covered, Frances  had  been  a  slightly  rattled  and 
badly  frightened  girl,  eager  to  drop  her  burden  on 
the  shoulders  of  others.  But  no  sooner  had  she 
left  that  disordered  room  than  she  had  taken  upon 
herself  the  leadership  of  the  whole  affair.  She  en- 
deavored to  do  as  would  have  been  done  by  the 
father  whom  she  so  greatly  admired.  Partly  from 
association  and  heredity,  partly  from  conscious  imi- 
tation, she  was  thinking  and  acting,  even  to  little  de- 
tails, so  exactly  like  Sam  that  Billy  slipped  in  under 
the  spell,  and  found  himself  taking  orders  just  as 
unhesitatingly  as  though  it  were  Coulters  in  person 
who  was  directing. 

Indeed,  it  required  an  effort  to  suggest  to  her 
that  men  in  business  were  trained  to  take  no  chances, 
and  that  it  seemed  as  though  she  were  depending 
altogether  too  much  upon  Bredford's  being  able  to 
find  her  father. 

(287) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"He  is  sure  to,"  she  answered.  "He  knows  that 
father  is  keeping  an  appointment  with  Mr.  Barlow, 
and  he  heard  father  promise  mother  that  the  very 
minute  they  left  the  bank  they  would  go  to  the  Fifth 
Street  department  store.  I  know  mother  when  she 
is  shopping;  she  will  keep  father  there  an  hour." 

"I  guess  it's  safe,"  Billy  admitted.  "Suppose  we 
go  back  to  Edward  and  report?" 

Winfield  accepted  very  calmly  their  explanation 
of  how  they  had  failed  to  carry  out  instructions. 
After  Edward  had  told  of  having  sent  for  Mrs. 
Tibbetts,  and  after  both  men  had  praised  Frances 
until  she  blushed,  it  was  arranged  that  Billy  should 
drive  to  the  village  and  get  in  touch  with  Sam  and 
tell  him  about  Mrs.  Tibbetts'  coming.  Then  Evans 
was  to  pick  up  Ruth,  and  the  four  would  have 
luncheon  with  Winfield.  In  the  meantime,  Daggett 
would  wait  at  Donald's  house  to  bring  back  both 
the  Scotts  as  soon  as  they  arrived. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Ruth  and  Evans  ap- 
peared. Billy  could  not  get  San  Diego  on  the  wire 
at  all  at  first,  so  he  had  gone  for  Ruth.  On  the  way 
back  he  talked  to  the  clerk  of  the  King  Philip  hotel. 
Bredford  had  left  word  that  he  had  been  unable  to 
reach  Sam,  for  the  Coulters  had  suddenly  changed 
their  plans  and  had  left  for  home  on  the  early  after- 
noon train. 

"Then  they  and  Dorothy  have  crossed,"  wailed 
Frances.  She  pulled  herself  together  in  a  moment. 
"I'm  going  to  tell  Rutherford  White.  He  will  stop 
her  for  us,  I  know  he  will." 

(288) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

But  in  an  hour  or  so  she  returned,  having  been 
unable  to  locate  White.  He  was  somewhere  in  the 
city,  but  neither  in  his  office  nor  in  any  of  his  accus- 
tomed haunts  was  a  trace  of  him  to  be  found. 

Before  the  next  move  had  been  as  much  as 
thought  of  there  was  a  cloud  of  dust  in  the  garden, 
the  squeak  of  brakes  and  the  rattle  of  machinery. 
A  nervous,  fragile  little  woman,  tired  and  travel- 
stained,  could  hardly  wait  long  enough  to  alight  be- 
fore asking  for  Dorothy.  Ruth  and  Frances  took 
her  to  a  room  upstairs,  where  they  cleaned  and 
freshened  her  while  they  broke  the  news.  Billy  and 
Edward,  meanwhile,  were  looking  into  each  other's 
haggard  faces,  steadily  and  silently.  Presently  there 
came  from  above  a  scream  indescribably  suggestive 
of  mental  agony.  It  was  followed  by  the  noise  of 
weeping,  subdued,  long-continued  sobbing.  Win- 
field's  sensitive  nature  responded  to  every  sound, 
and  even  Evans,  hardened  slave  driver  that  he  was, 
no  longer  tried  to  check  the  tears  that  were  rolling 
down  his  cheeks. 

Edward  rang  his  bell  and  Val  appeared.  "I  want 
Harper,"  said  the  master.  When  the  ranch  fore- 
man came  in,  Edward  gave  him  his  orders  in  a  few 
curt  words.  "Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scott  are  coming  down 
from  Eulalia.  Go  with  Reardon  to  meet  them.  I 
want  him  to  bring  them  to  me.  You  are  to  drive 
their  horses  home.  Then  I  want  Reardon  to  meet 
the  San  Diego  train  and  bring  the  Coulters  here." 

"Can  you  imagine  anything  more  awful,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  the  man  was  gone,  "than  for  this  girl 

(289) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

to  have  no  one  to  talk  to  through  life  except  Takase, 
to  forever  see  him  only  across  her  table,  to  submit 
to  his  caresses  by  day  and  by  night — " 

"We  have  got  to  stop  this."  Billy  was  listening 
no  less  to  Edward  than  to  the  agony  from  the  room 
overhead. 

"We  will,  if  my  money  and  your  strength  can 
do  it." 

It  wasn't  long  before  the  arrival  of  the  others, 
the  Scotts  and  the  Coulters.  The  girls  brought  Mrs. 
Tibbetts  down  to  join  the  council  of  war.  Plan 
after  plan  was  brought  up  and  discussed,  the  while 
everyone  waited  until  Sam  should  promulgate  his 
ideas. 

"The  girl  must  be  arrested,"  he  said  at  length. 
"Surely  there  is  some  small  bill  that  remains  unpaid. 
We'll  charge  her  with  leaving  the  state  with  intent 
to  defraud  her  creditors.     The  police — " 

"No !  You  shall  not.  My  girl  shall  not  be  ar- 
rested like  a  common  thief.  Do  you  think  I  could 
consent  to  having  a  policeman  touch  her,  perhaps 
put  her  in  jail?" 

Frances  and  Mary  Coulters  placated  the  old  lady, 
and  they  even  persuaded  her  to  promise  to  swear 
out  the  warrant.  Meanwhile,  Billy  and  Sam  fell 
to  discussing  avenues  of  escape.  "If  she  goes 
by  sea,"  said  Evans,  "she  must  stop  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  if  by  land  she  will  have  to  go  on  the 
Southern  Pacific,  through  Sacramento.  If  we  have 
those  two  points  watched  she  can't  escape." 

(290) 


DOROTHY  TIBBETTS'  WEDDING 

"She  owes  us  a  few  weeks'  board,"  said  Donald. 
"Will  that  do  as  a  pretext  for  her  arrest?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sam.  "Assign  it  to  Mrs.  Tibbetts; 
if  the  child  is  stopped  by  her  own  mother  it  will 
hurt  her  the  least." 

So  everything  was  settled.  Mary  Coulters  took 
the  little  widow  with  her,  while  the  others  scattered 
to  their  homes  or  to  their  apportioned  work.  Ed- 
ward and  Billy  undertook  to  put  private  detectives 
on  Dorothy's  trail,  and  Sam  was  to  set  in  motion 
the  machinery  of  the  law.  Places  were  gone  over 
and  checked  again.  No  loophole  was  left  that  even 
an  experienced  criminal  could  have  found.  Then 
everyone  concerned  waited  patiently  until  the  net 
should  close  on  the  teacher  and  bring  her  back  to, 
her  loving  friends. 

As  the  days  slipped  by  with  no  word  from  the 
fugitive,  the  little  group  in  Rosario  grew  more  and 
more  perplexed,  though  only  the  mother  was  really 
worried.  Two  weeks  passed,  during  which  every 
steamer,  train  and  auto  stage  was  watched.  The 
dens  of  Tijuana  were  searched,  San  Diego  itself 
raked  as  with  a  comb,  and  every  seaport  and 
every  point  of  exit  from  the  state  were  guarded. 
In  the  meantime,  Takase  had  been  arrested,  his 
admission  papers  had  been  held  faulty,  and  he  had 
been  deported. 

Another  fortnight  passed  before  a  cablegram 
from  Yokohama  unravelled  the  mystery.  An  hour 
after  reaching  San  Diego,  with  no  one  the  wiser, 
Dorothy  had  steamed  out  of  the  harbor  on  a  tramp 

(291) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

schooner  bound  for  Mazatlan.  There  she  had  tran- 
shipped to  a  liner  which  took  her  straight  to  Japan. 
Takase  had  met  and  married  her  the  moment  she 
put  foot  on  shore. 

One  can  hardly  regret  that  her  subsequent  fate 
is  unknown.  Edward  Winfield  had  investigations 
made,  but  he  carried  to  his  own  grave  the  secret 
of  those  revelations.     Poor  Dorothy! 

The  last  chapter  of  this  tragedy  was  written  the 
day  the  cablegram  arrived.  Late  that  evening  the 
door  of  Winfield's  den  opened  quietly  to  admit  a 
pitiful  wreck  of  manhood. 

"I  saw  your  light,"  Charles  Essing  began,  apolo- 
getically. But  he  could  not  control  himself.  "Is 
this  true — what  I  hear  about  Dorothy?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  is,  old  man,  absolutely  true." 

"Take  this!"  Essing  tossed  a  large  envelope  into 
the  invalid's  lap,  and  disappeared  into  the  night. 

Edward  found  in  the  package  a  short  note,  asking 
him  to  dispose  of  the  Essing  homestead  as  best  he 
could  and  send  the  proceeds  to  a  Mrs.  Charles  Es- 
sing, Sr.,  at  an  address  given  in  Kennebunk,  Maine. 
Accompanying  this  request  was  a  perfectly  executed 
deed  for  the  property  running  from  Charles  Essing 
to  Edward  Winfield. 

There  will  be  no  postscript  describing  a  desolate 
home  in  Glendale,  for  the  simple  reason  that  no  one 
reading  could  appreciate,  even  in  part,  the  suffer- 
ings of  that  heart-broken  widow. 


(292) 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  Other  Woman 

'T^HE  Rancho  Rosario  dated  from  the  days  of  the 
■*■  Spaniards.  The  original  grant  included  the  en- 
tire valley,  and  league  upon  league  of  the  surround- 
ing hills.  Cattle  and  horses  in  great  herds,  with 
burros  and  mules  in  lesser  numbers,  grazed  over  this 
vast  acreage,  were  in  fact  its  only  product.  When 
the  development  of  the  state  and  the  concurrent  in- 
crease in  taxation  had  made  the  cattle  industry  un- 
profitable, this  great  rancho  succumbed  to  the  same 
fate  that  had  overtaken  many  another — it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  land  speculators,  and  was  subdivided 
into  five  and  ten  acre  tracts. 

Once  upon  a  time  the  central  group  of  buildings 
had  housed  a  hundred  souls,  but  years  and  the  ele- 
ments had  changed  adobe  walls  back  again  into 
adobe  fields.  There  remained  only  one  building,  a 
comparatively  modern  frame  cottage,  to  connect  the 
present  with  the  past.  From  time  to  time  improve- 
ments had  been  made  that  brought  this  house  more 
nearly  up  to  date,  but  even  so,  only  at  rare  intervals 
was  it  occupied  by  its  owners. 

When  there  arrived  several  wagon  loads  of  fur- 
niture consigned  to  the  old  ranch  house,  the  Rosar- 
ians  were  not  surprised  that  once  again  the  place  had 
been  rented.  In  due  course,  there  came  a  number  of 
trunks,  accompanied  by  two  servants,  and  for  days 

(293) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

there  proceeded  the  work  of  installation.  Then, 
late  one  afternoon,  a  large  touring  car  drew  up  be- 
fore the  cottage,  and  the  Richardsons  of  Chicago 
were  duly  installed  in  their  new  home. 

Mr.  Richardson  remained  only  a  day  or  two,  just 
long  enough  to  see  his  wife  settled,  and  to  satisfy 
himself  that  she  would  be  properly  cared  for  by 
Dr.  Hollington.  She  had  broken  down,  explained 
the  husband,  under  the  strain  of  a  life  of  pleasure, 
and  had  been  exiled  for  a  six-month  period  of  rest. 

Soon  the  residents  of  the  valley  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  sight  of  an  open  car  wandering  about 
their  roads.  Few  people  could  as  much  as  claim  a 
speaking  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Richardson,  and 
yet  all  were  proud  that  among  them  there  was  such 
a  handsomely  gowned  woman,  such  an  aristocrat. 
She  was  not  strikingly  pretty,  and  besides  ten  years 
of  late  hours  and  mild  dissipation  had  left  their 
signatures  across  her  features.  Nature  had  been 
neither  stingy  nor  prodigal  with  her,  for  while  there 
was  nothing  about  either  face  or  figure  that  repelled, 
even  remotely,  there  was  little  that  was  strongly  at- 
tractive, unless  it  were  her  eyes.  They  were  soft, 
alluring,  fascinating,  they  spoke  alternately  interest, 
admiration,  wonder,  or  sympathy  at  the  owner's  will, 
and  when  they  flashed  upon  a  man  they  always 
thrilled  him,  and  usually  made  him  try  to  bring  back 
their  light  once  more.  That  may  have  been  nature 
or  it  may  have  been  art,  for  in  art  the  lady  left  small 
room  for  improvement.  Her  complexion  was  the 
result  of  two  hours  of  daily  work,  her  teeth  were  as 

(294) 


THE  OTHER  WOMAN 

perfect  as  dentistry  could  make  them,  small,  regu- 
lar, and  brilliantly  white.  Her  hair  was  a  constant 
tribute  to  her  maid,  her  clothes  accentuated  every- 
thing desirable  about  her  figure;  in  a  word,  her 
grooming  was  complete,  for  she  had  the  happy 
faculty  of  combining  style  with  good  taste. 

Dr.  Hollington  was  thrown  closely  in  contact  with 
her  by  his  daily  visits.  Treating  such  an  obscure 
ailment  as  hers  was  not  a  matter  of  taking  temper- 
ature and  pulse  or  of  prescribing  drugs.  He  had  to 
talk  with  her  about  little  intimate  things  of  life,  to 
urge  her,  often  to  compel  her  to  do  as  he  wished. 
His  stronger  will  so  readily  conquered  hers  that 
she  soon  found  herself  depending  on  his  advice  and 
support  in  matters  not  even  remotely  connected  with 
hygiene.  She  reciprocated  to  the  limit  of  her  ability 
by  the  interest  she  showed  in  his  work,  an  interest 
which  more  often  than  not  resulted  in  her  visiting 
his  sick  and  doing  whatever  she  could  for  them, 
whether  reading  to  them,  or  giving  an  outing  to 
them,  or  taking  delicacies  to  them. 

Robert  was  in  love  with  Frances,  and  furthermore 
he  was  a  man  of  intense  singleness  of  purpose.  For 
him  there  was  no  other  woman,  there  could  be  none. 
Mrs.  Richardson  was  fascinating,  perhaps  her  great- 
est charm  lay  in  the  extreme  development  of  the 
feminine  side  of  her  nature,  and  yet  to  Robert  she 
was  sexless.  Though  he  attempted  no  critical  an- 
alysis of  her,  he  could  not  help  realizing  that  vanity 
was  her  ruling  passion.  He  recognized  her  type  as 
one  with  which  he  had  once  been  somewhat  familiar, 

(295) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

knew  in  a  vague  way  that  her  married  life  had  been 
a  long  series  of  small  triumphs,  that  she  had  always 
had  at  her  beck  and  call  at  least  one  more  or  less 
devoted  suitor,  and  that  even  in  her  present  seclusion 
it  was  highly  probable  that  a  new  admirer  would 
spring  out  of  the  new  environment.  To  have  thought 
that  he  himself  would  be  the  one  to  be  singled  out 
for  the  purpose  would  have  required  a  more  liberal 
allotment  of  conceit  and  self-consciousness  than  he 
possessed. 

So  he  unsuspiciously  accepted  at  its  face  value  her 
freely  given  help.  He  grew  to  believe  that  her  but- 
terfly existence  had  been  forced  upon  her,  as  she 
proved  to  him  by  hard  work  that  her  natural  instincfs 
lay  in  the  direction  of  making  her  life  of  value  to 
herself  and  to  others.  She  kept  very  much  aloof 
from  him,  kept  their  relations  as  impersonal  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit,  the  while  there  grew  in 
him,  he  could  not  have  told  how,  a  feeling  that  she 
was  very  sorry  for  him  for  being  buried  out  in  this 
neck  of  the  world,  for  missing  not  merely  the  pleas- 
ures that  large  cities  offer,  but  also  the  substantial 
rewards  that  his  undoubted  ability  would  have  won 
in  any  of  the  great  centers  of  population.  So  it  was 
with  subtle  sympathy  and  subtle  flattery  that  Mrs. 
Richardson  started  her  campaign  to  bring  to  her  feet 
the  most  attractive  unattached  man  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. At  the  proper  time  she  allowed  Robert  to 
understand  that  her  husband  had  not  been  as  atten- 
tive as  he  should  have  been,  that  the  married  couple 
were  not  congenial.     Never  by  any  chance  did  a 

(296) 


THE  OTHER  WOMAN 

word  of  criticism  pass  her  lips,  nor  was  a  suggestion 
of  the  sort  made  directly;  on  the  contrary  Robert 
did  not  believe  that  she  even  suspected  him  of  know- 
ing the  secret. 

Pearl  Richardson  was  a  woman  whose  actions 
had  always  been  above  reproach.  None  of  her  vic- 
tims had  ever  had  a  touch,  a  look,  or  a  word  of  af- 
fection, except  in  the  most  motherly  sort  of  way. 
Playing  the  game  as  she  played  it,  it  was  necessary 
not  only  to  remain  undefiled,  but  to  be  generally 
credited  with  so  doing.  The  companionship  of 
women  must  be  cultivated,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
to  one  of  her  type  womankind  had  little  to  offer. 
Mrs.  Coulters  and  her  daughters  must  be  placed  un- 
der such  a  debt  of  obligation  that  even  if  their 
friendship  was  not  won  they  would  still  be  estopped 
from  passing  judgment  upon  her.  It  was  not  at  all 
difficult  for  Mrs.  Richardson  to  cooperate  with 
Mary  Coulters  in  care  of  the  sick  and  in  many  acts 
of  mercy.  The  daily  drive  in  the  big  car  was  pre- 
scribed and  it  soon  became  more  customary  than 
not  for  Mrs.  Coulters,  and  often  one  if  not  both 
of  her  daughters,  to  be  seen  in  the  tonneau.  They 
all  became  very  much  attached  to  my  lady  bounti- 
ful, for  she  was  alluring  and  sympathetic,  and 
willing  to  put  herself  to  any  amount  of  trouble  in 
her  unselfish  efforts  to  help  others. 

All  the  time  this  cold,  calculating  woman  was 
protecting  herself  against  attack  from  the  rear.  So 
skilfully  did  she  intrench  herself  that  even  when 
Frances  grew  to  dislike  her,  no  suspicion  of  insin- 

(297) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

cerity  flashed  through  the  young  girl's  mind.  In- 
deed, there  was  not  one  of  the  women  who  estab- 
lished public  opinion  in  Rosario  but  had  found  Mrs. 
Richardson  at  all  times  graciously  condescending,  at 
all  times  loyal  in  her  praise  of  her  husband,  at  all 
times  willing  to  do  hard  work  with  no  apparent  mo- 
tive other  than  goodness  of  heart.  Had  the  occa- 
sion ever  arisen  which  demanded  a  champion  for 
her,  there  would  have  been  no  dearth,  but  her  part 
had  been  played  too  well  for  such  a  necessity  to 
arise.  There  were  few  people  in  Eden  Valley  who 
would  accept  favors  unless  they  could  repay  with  a 
loyalty  both  of  word  and  thought. 

Just  how  a  conquest  which  could  only  be  on  the 
surface,  which  was  never  intended  to  be  deeper,  one 
which  was  a  tribute  to  skilful  manipulation  rather 
than  personal  attractiveness,  one  which  from  its 
very  nature  was  but  a  pretense,  could  satisfy  the 
craving  of  vanity,  is  something  which  a  normal  mind 
can  grasp  only  with  difficulty.  It  must  be  a  form  of 
degeneracy,  a  mild  and  by  no  means  uncommon 
form  resulting  from  the  overdevelopment  of 
woman's  longing  for  admiration.  With  the  man  of 
her  choice  at  her  feet,  no  matter  by  what  means  he 
may  have  been  brought  there  and  without  regard  to 
what  significance  is  to  be  attached  to  his  presence, 
her  object  is  realized.  Even  though  she  knows  that 
she  has  won  nothing,  her  craving  is  gratified  by  ap- 
pearances if  the  setting  be  artistically  perfect. 

His  own  simple  honesty  was  Robert's  only  pro- 
tection against  this  subtlety.     The  first  stage  of  his 

(298) 


THE  OTHER  WOMAN 

relationship  with  Mrs.  Richardson  was  purely  pro- 
fessional, the  second  came  when  he  gladly  embraced 
the  opportunity  she  offered  of  bringing  care  and 
comforts  to  his  sick.  The  third  step  unfolded  slowly, 
coincidentally  with  her  attentions  to  the  women  of 
Rosario.  It  found  Robert  on  the  basis  of  an  inti- 
mate friend,  coming  freely  to  give  or  to  receive 
advice.  Then  she  endeavored  to  carry  this  friend- 
ship to  a  point  where  she  would  be  indispensable  to 
him. 

She  found  if  she  concealed  it  sufficiently  that  he 
was  readily  susceptible  to  flattery.  Accordingly  she 
fed  it  to  him  as  rapidly  as  she  dared,  though  always 
indirectly.  She  knew  that  no  male  of  his  age  but 
was  proud  to  be  seen  in  the  company  of  a  truly  sty- 
lish woman,  so  she  indulged  him  in  that  vanity,  the 
more  readily  since  she  perceived  the  extra  effort  he 
was  making  in  the  care  of  his  own  person.  She 
played  upon  his  solitary  condition  by  offering  him 
the  sociability  and  the  many  little  refinements  of  life 
to  which  his  early  training  had  accustomed  him.  She 
studied  his  tastes  in  order  to  met  them,  in  dress  as 
well  as  in  conversation.  Other  women  would  have 
understood  that  many  a  pose  had  been  carefully  re- 
hearsed, mentally  at  least,  that  when  she  draped 
herself  in  an  archway  or  became  the  foreground  of 
an  enticing  picture  the  effects  had  been  carefully 
studied  in  advance,  but  no  man,  least  of  all  Robert,: 
would  have  seen  anything  beyond  the  general  result. 

With  all  this,  she  would  have  had  to  have  ad- 
mitted failure  had  it  been  her  nature  to  analyze. 

(299) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

The  most  conspicuous  sign  of  defeat  lay  in  her  bring- 
ing Frances'  name  into  the  conversation.  Whenever 
Mrs.  Richardson  found  the  doctor's  interest  begin- 
ning to  lag  she  would  revive  it  by  relating  some 
incident  connected  with  the  Coulters  family,  and  it 
was  the  hearing  of  these,  or  more  often  the  mere 
hope  of  so  doing,  that  frequently  dragged  him  from 
his  study  or  his  experiments.  Another  confession 
came  from  her  treatment  of  him  in  public,  especially 
if  close  friends  of  the  Coulters  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent. She  would  often  show  a  little  familiarity  of 
manner,  perhaps  in  the  way  she  touched  his  arm,  or 
it  might  be  only  in  brushing  a  fleck  of  dust  from  his 
coat  collar,  but  always  there  was  given  an  impres- 
sion of  ownership,  even  while  she  knew  the  whole 
proceeding  was  grating  the  victim  himself. 

Of  course,  the  affair  created  a  furore  in  Rosario. 
The  good  people  of  the  valley  had  never  before 
seen  anything  of  the  kind,  and  they  did  not  under- 
stand. Pearl  Richardson  had  established  her  alibis 
with  such  pains  that  she  was  the  target  of  al- 
most no  criticism.  Her  life  was  an  open  book  to  all, 
her  character  had  been  proven  by  her  actions,  and 
she  was  at  the  worst  a  victim  of  circumstances. 
Robert  was  the  one  who  was  censured,  who  was  ac- 
cused of  everything  from  making  a  fool  of  himself 
to  planning  deliberately  to  take  advantage  of  the 
husband's  absence.  As  time  went  on  the  incident 
cost  the  young  man  more  of  his  remaining  friends 
than  he  could  well  afford  to  lose.  A  year  before 
there  would  have  been  any  number  to  have  warned 

(300) 


THE  OTHER  WOMAN 

him,  but  so  greatly  had  he  been  misjudged  during 
that  twelve  months,  so  bitterly  had  he  been  blamed 
for  the  aid  he  had  given  the  Japanese,  that  no  one 
took  it  upon  himself  even  so  much  as  to  let  him 
know  that  his  conduct  was  disapproved. 

Edward  Winfield  would  have  set  him  right  at 
once,  but  Edward  was  away  from  home.  Clem 
Harding  tried  to  speak  of  the  matter,  but  could  not 
do  so,  and  there  were  many  others  who  had  the  doc- 
tor's interests  at  heart,  but  who,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  kept  silent.  So  Robert  went  serenely  on 
his  way,  conscious  of  his  own  rectitude,  knowing  that 
neither  by  act  nor  thought  had  he  transgressed  even 
the  strictest  rules  of  propriety.  It  was  not  his 
nature  to  wonder  how  any  act  of  his  would  appear 
to  others,  never  had  he  asked  himself  what  he  would 
think  if  he  were  on  the  outside  looking  in  on  a  man 
doing  just  as  he  was  doing.  He  knew  that  he  had 
set  his  standards  much  higher  than  the  world  de- 
manded, knew  that  he  lived  up  to  them  more  un- 
swervingly than  any  ordinary  person,  so  he  never 
dreamed  that  if  he  met  his  own  tests  any  outsiders 
would  as  much  as  question  what  he  had  passed. 

Frances  understood  the  situation  better  than  any- 
one else  in  the  valley,  for  in  San  Clemente  she  had 
seen  and  heard  discussed  episodes  not  altogether  dif- 
ferent. Furthermore,  she  knew  Hollington's  char- 
acter well  enough  to  appreciate  that  he  might  be 
absolutely  innocent  and  still  act  just  as  he  was  doing. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  so  disappointed  in  him  and  so 

(301) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

hurt  that  she  did  not  judge  him  fairly.  We  glory 
in  the  imperious  pride  of  our  womankind.  When  a 
girl  like  Frances  is  hurt  she  becomes  angry,  and  if 
we  are  to  be  consistent  and  honor  her  for  her  pride, 
then  we  must  not  censure  her  because  she  does  not 
calmly  lay  it  aside  the  moment  it  is  attacked. 

If  she  had  reasoned  she  might  or  might  not  have 
held  Robert  blameless,  but  she  certainly  would  have 
remembered  that  he  had  no  grounds  for  suspecting 
that  she  had  seriously  thought  of  sending  for  him. 
Of  course,  she  denied  to  herself,  denied  vehemently, 
that  she  had  ever  more  than  lightly  considered  such 
a  course,  attributing  her  feeling  on  the  subject  to  his 
unpardonable  conduct  in  so  placing  her  that  she 
could  not  do  this  if  she  chose.  His  attachment  for 
her  had  been  so  well  known  that  she  was  furiously 
angry  because  she  believed  his  lightly  taking  up  this 
other  affair  exposed  her  to  ridicule.  If  she  felt  as 
she  did  towards  Robert,  towards  Mrs.  Richardson 
her  heart  held  hatred  none  the  less  bitter  because 
it  must  be  carefully  masked.  It  is  almost  an  axiom 
that  women  cannot  compete  in  friendly  rivalry,  either 
in  business  or  in  love.  In  this  case,  Frances  was 
sure  that  all  the  fault  lay  with  the  other  woman, 
intuition  told  her  as  much,  though  she  did  not  ever 
voice  the  belief  nor  try  to  prove  it  even  to  herself. 

The  inconsistency  of  maidenhood!  She  was 
angry  with  Robert,  though  she  did  not  blame  him. 
She  resolved  to  punish  him  because  he  cared  for 
another,  and  yet  her  punishment  took  such  form  that 

(302) 


THE  OTHER  WOMAN 

it  would  hurt  only  in  case  he  still  loved  her  as  of  old. 
Since  her  return  from  San  Clemente  she  had  hardly 
spoken  to  Billy  Evans.  A  sense  of  loyalty  towards 
Robert,  or  some  other  undefinable  feeling  that  it 
would  not  be  right,  had  kept  her  from  his  company. 
But  from  now  on  she  was  continually  seen  with  the 
engineer,  often  in  the  Richardsons'  car,  almost  al- 
ways where  Mrs.  Richardson  might  observe  them, 
and,  strangely  enough,  invariably  accompanied  by 
Ruth. 

Frances,  even  in  anger,  could  not  have  injured  an 
innocent  outsider.  If  her  offended  girlhood  clam- 
ored for  reparation  that  must  be  paid  by  the  person 
at  fault,  and  by  no  other.  For  a  hundred  centuries 
it  has  been  the  virgin's  privilege  to  treat  her  suitor 
as  she  chooses;  Frances  felt  no  compunction  what- 
ever for  Hollington.  She  may  have  promised  her- 
self to  take  out  her  revenge  on  any  man  she  could, 
but  in  the  last  analysis  her  character  was  too  fine, 
her  sense  of  justice  too  strong.  So,  while  she  en- 
couraged Billy  to  be  with  her,  she  let  him  see,  from 
the  very  outset,  that  there  had  been  no  change  in 
her  feelings.  She  endeavored  in  every  possible  way 
to  repay  him  by  being  entertaining  and  by  doing 
things  to  interest  him,  and,  if  he  were  not  satisfied 
with  that,  she  was  prepared  to  forego  her  entire 
program.  And  because  she  feared  that  in  spite  of 
every  possible  precaution  her  being  alone  with  him 
might  reawaken  his  passion,  she  planned  that  there 
should  always  be  others  with  them. 

(303) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Billy  was  happy.  The  mine  was  running  so 
smoothly  that  he  had  plenty  of  leisure,  so  he  talked 
with  Frances  apparently  content,  flirted  with  Ruth, 
and  openly  made  love  to  Mrs.  Richardson  whenever 
the  opportunity  offered,  and  so  drifted  on  through 
the  long  summer  days. 


(304) 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

The  Collapse  of  Donald  Scott 

^pHE  home  of  the  Scotts  was  one  of  the  oldest 
■*■  and  best  maintained  in  Rosario.  The  bunga- 
low itself  was  small  and  the  garden  would  hardly 
have  crowded  an  unpretentious  city  lot,  but  the 
charm  was  in  no  way  dependent  on  size.  From 
the  shape  and  color  of  the  house  to  the  selection 
and  blending  of  the  plants,  everything  proclaimed 
the  individuality  of  the  owners. 

There  were  five  rooms  downstairs  and  one  above, 
the  latter  snuggling  in  among  the  rafters.  The  roof 
ran  with  a  graceful  lessening  pitch  from  the  central 
gable  to  the  generous  overhang  beyond  the  porch, 
where  it  was  supported  by  small  pillars  spaced  some 
ten  feet  apart.  The  building  was  painted  a  rather 
light  green  and  trimmed  with  white.  The  color 
scheme  was  of  relative  unimportance,  however,  for 
the  little  cottage  was  fairly  buried  under  a  mass  of 
bougainvillea,  honeysuckle,  and  climbing  rose.  Bes- 
sie had  deliberately  tried  to  obtain  the  impression 
that  the  structure  itself  was  merely  an  arbor  to  hold 
the  vines.  The  necessity  of  trimming  the  windows 
and  the  doorways  had  lessened  this  illusion,  but 
there  were  places  in  the  garden  from  which  it  was 
almost  realized. 

Surrounding  the  house  was  a  thick  hedge  of  Cher- 
okee rose,  which  enclosed  the  entire  garden,  except- 

(305) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ing  the  two  palms  that  guarded  the  gateway.  They 
had  been  but  waist  high  when  planted,  long  years 
before,  on  a  day  never  mentioned  but  never  forgot- 
ten, when  Bessie  had  taken  one  and  Donald  the 
other,  and  bride  and  groom  had  simultaneously  set 
the  augury  of  their  new  home.  Season  after  season 
the  dead  leaves  had  fallen  back  on  the  trunks,  while 
the  new  growth,  ever  coming  through  the  top,  had 
climbed  to  a  height  that  now  exceeded  thirty  feet. 

The  garden  itself  was  a  hodge-podge  of  sizes. 
There  were  three  or  four  ornamental  trees  that  at 
one  time  had  just  fitted  some  bare  spot,  but  were 
now  grown  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  yard,  and 
were  spaced  with  no  apparent  regard  for  each  other. 
There  were  some  clumps  of  papyrus  almost  as  tall 
as  Donald,  some  rose  bushes  surrounded  by  circles 
of  cobble,  and  beds  of  pansies,  of  carnations,  and 
geraniums,  of  sweet-peas  and  nasturtiums  found  a 
resting  place  against  otherwise  unoccupied  walls. 
Now  and  again  would  appear  an  odd  plant  or  flower, 
a  gift  or  a  souvenir,  or  just  a  fancy  of  the  owner. 

Underfoot,  paths  ran  about  aimlessly.  There 
was  no  lawn,  not  even  a  weed,  just  the  bare  adobe 
baked  hard,  almost  without  shade  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  the  porch.  But  the  flowers  throve  in  the 
bright  sunlight,  color  was  everywhere,  and  a  warmth 
of  welcome  awaited  the  wayfarer  who  entered  the 
gates. 

Such  was  the  home  of  the  Scotts.  The  pair  were 
seated  on  their  porch  one  Sunday  afternoon.  Bessie 
had  been  reading,  but  her  attention  was  obviously 

(306) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

more  on  her  husband  than  on  her  magazine.  At 
last  she  laid  down  the  publication. 

"I  know  you're  having  trouble,"  she  said.  "But 
you've  not  told  me  what  it  is.  I  suppose  from  your 
sitting  there  hour  after  hour  with  a  paper  and  pen- 
cil, that  you're  figuring  money  matters.  Whatever 
has  happened,  and  no  matter  how  serious  or  un- 
pleasant it  may  be,  tell  me  all  about  it  so  that  we 
can  meet  it  together." 

Donald  laid  aside  the  sheet  that  he  had  covered 
with  small  numbers. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  potato  bug?"  he  asked. 

"Yes;  have  they  hurt  our  crop?" 

"They  have  ruined  it." 

"Oh,  Donald,  what  are  we  going  to  do?" 

"That's  what  I  am  studying.  If  Dorothy  were 
paying  her  board  and  if  we'd  been  able  to  sell  our 
potatoes  for  any  fair  amount,  we  would  still  not 
have  had  sufficient  money,  but  we  would  have  had 
nearly  enough.  What  is  the  least  we  can  possibly 
spend  on  ourselves  until  our  orange  crop  is  sold? 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars?" 

"We  can  try.     I  believe  we  can  make  it." 

"Then  there  are  our  notes  to  meet,  the  bill  for 
the  seed  potato  must  be  paid,  and  our  share  of  the 
spraying.  There  are  taxes  and  interest  on  the  mort- 
gage and  farm  expenses.  Altogether  it  adds  to 
eighteen  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of  doing?" 

"I'll  go  to  San  Diego  tomorrow  to  see  Farring. 
(307) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

He  bought  our  mortgage  from  the  California 
Bank—" 

"Donald,  you  didn't  tell  me  that!" 

"I  didn't  wish  to  worry  you.  I  can  handle  the 
debt  when  it  matures,  for  it  has  still  a  long  time 
to  run  and  the  amount  is  very  small,  so  small  indeed 
that  I  believe  Farring  will  let  me  have  two  thousand 
dollars  more." 

"I've  always  understood  that  Barlow  would  not 
sell  these  mortgages." 

"His  board  of  directors  took  the  matter  over  his 
head  and  compelled  him  to  do  so." 

Scott  easily  found  the  firm  of  Farring  and  Har- 
vey. Farring  was  a  typical  example  of  those  brokers 
whose  greatest  asset  is  a  consistent  ability  to  meet 
every  newcomer  as  though  the  latter  were  an  old 
friend  and  a  valued  client.  If  Farring  listened  with 
the  utmost  sympathy  to  Donald's  request,  and  gave 
the  appearance  of  being  more  than  anxious  to  grant 
it,  that  was  force  of  habit,  nothing  more.  When 
the  agent  explained  that  he  couldn't  do  as  he  was 
asked,  if  he  added  that  he  undoubtedly  would  have 
done  so,  and  have  done  so  gladly,  had  the  mort- 
gage not  already  passed  out  of  his  hands,  that  was 
second  nature  pure  and  simple.  He  looked  up  his 
records  to  find  that  the  present  holder  was  Mc- 
Gowan,  the  lawyer. 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  the  farmer  crossed 
the  blocks  that  lay  between  him  and  the  law  office 
that  was  fast  becoming  notorious.  He  went  because 
there  was  still  a  chance  that  the  attorney  was  acting 

( 308 ) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

for  some  one  other  than  Hanba.  Scott  climbed  the 
wooden  stairs  of  a  building  that  had  been  the  pride 
of  the  city  some  thirty  years  before.  The  halls  were 
wide  and  clean,  but  there  was  little  light  and  no 
ventilation;  the  impression  of  an  old-time  prison 
went  with  him  into  the  office  rooms  beyond.  Mc- 
Gowan  was  out,  and  was  not  expected  for  another 
hour;  the  law  clerk  could  not  even  consider  divulg- 
ing any  further  information.  So  Donald,  having 
nothing  further  to  do,  sat  in  a  chair  and  waited. 

There  was  an  interminable  delay  before  the  attor- 
ney returned.  He  listened  patiently  to  the  recital 
and  at  its  conclusion  promised  to  communicate  with 
his  principal.  No,  he  would  not  divulge  the  identity 
of  the  latter,  nor  even  tell  whether  or  not  he  was  a 
white  man.  McGowan  placidly  fell  back  on  the  con- 
fidential relations  between  lawyer  and  client.  He 
refused  to  concede  anything  whatever,  but  did  agree 
at  last  that  if  Donald  would  return  at  ten  o'clock 
the  next  day  there  would  be  an  answer. 

On  the  following  morning,  anxiety  and  the  strain 
of  uncertainty  showed  on  that  weathered  Scotch 
face.  McGowan  had  the  answer  ready,  it  was  an 
unembellished  no.  It  left  no  possibility  of  extenu- 
ation, no  room  for  argument,  it  left  no  opening 
either  for  pleading  or  for  hope.  So  Scott  went  back 
to  the  street,  to  undertake  the  hardest  task  of  his 
life.  He  had  always  led  an  upright  life,  had 
always  been  able  to  look  straight  into  the  eyes  of 
any  man  or  woman,  and  had  never  in  all  his  fifty 
years  had  to  cringe  to  anyone  for  a  favor.     Now 

(309) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

he  must  have  some  money,  money  that  he  could  not 
secure  in  the  regular  channels  of  trade,  money  that 
would  come  to  him  only  if  he  violated  the  honor 
of  a  record  of  over  half  a  century,  only  if  he  knelt 
down  to  beg  for  it. 

He  knew  nothing  about  the  procedure  expected  of 
him,  but  he  had,  in  his  strong  honest  face,  an  asset 
greater  than  any  skill  or  experience.  There  were 
many  who  felt  they  honored  themselves  with  his 
friendship,  many  merchants  who,  having  traded  with 
him  season  after  season,  regarded  his  probity  as 
hardly  second  even  to  that  of  the  banks.  But  the 
men  among  whom  he  circulated  were  small  finan- 
cially, and  subject  to  many  demands  of  a  similar 
nature,  so  such  of  them  as  accommodated  him  at 
all  gave  but  little.  Nevertheless,  the  full  amount 
needed  was  eventually  raised,  though  by  so  narrow 
a  margin  that  the  farmer's  borrowing  capacity  was 
exhausted,  and  the  last  few  hundred  dollars  came 
with  difficulty. 

The  conviction  grew  that  McGowan  was  no  longer 
acting  for  Hanba,  but  for  some  Caucasian  who  was 
following  the  system  from  which  the  Mongolian  was 
barred  by  law.  There  was  none  of  the  subtle,  in- 
tangible interference  with  Donald's  efforts  to  raise 
money  that  had  been  experienced  by  so  many  of  his 
unfortunate  predecessors.  When  the  task  was  com- 
pleted and  the  last  of  the  notes  had  been  signed, 
when  the  mortgage  was  satisfied  for  the  time  by 
the  payment  of  the  taxes  and  interest,  and  he  had 
been  able  to  go  home,  the  Scotchman,  proud  as  he 

(310) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

was  of  his  own  strength,  sought  the  refuge  of  one 
who  was  even  stronger.  He  told  Sam  of  his  expe- 
riences, of  his  belief  that  the  white  man  was  about 
to  imitate  the  tactics  of  the  yellow,  and  he  smiled 
when  he  thought  of  what  would  become  of  that  mis- 
guided one  under  the  wheels  of  Coulters'  Jugger- 
naut. 

Donald  would  have  been  puzzled,  but  no  less  con- 
fident, had  he  known  that  his  path  had  been  fol- 
lowed among  the  commission  houses  and  the  dealers 
in  farming  supplies,  and  that  on  one  pretext  or  an- 
other, usually  of  friendship,  almost  all  of  his  paper 
had  been  purchased.  Had  he  been  behind  the  scenes 
a  little  deeper  still,  to  see  these  notes  pass  into  Mc- 
Gowan's  hands,  he  might  have  suspected  an  enemy 
no  less  implacable  than  Hanba  himself. 

Any  transaction  with  which  McGowan  was  con- 
nected was  apt  to  be  of  a  dubious  nature,  so  Sam 
Coulters  was  not  free  from  a  feeling  of  suspicion. 
He  decided  to  call  on  Arthur  Hancock,  to  see  if  any 
plots  were  being  laid  against  the  prettiest  place  in 
the  valley. 

Evangeline  welcomed  the  old  campaigner.  "I 
was  just  thinking  of  you,"  she  said,  "I  often  do  when 
I  look  over  at  the  houses  where  my  friends  used 
to  live.  It  was  bad  enough  to  have  the  Grahams 
go,  but  I  just  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  losing  the 
Nortons." 

"Your  new  neighbors  do  not  look  very  attract 
tive." 

"They  are  not.  Every  angle  of  their  housekeep- 
(311) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ing  comes  under  my  eyes,  and  all  of  it  is  objection- 
able. Their  primitive  ways,  their  crowding,  their 
apparent  destitution,  is  something  that  might  seem 
picturesque  for  the  moment,  but  it  is  horrible  to  have 
to  live  beside.  Think  of  never  having  clean  linen, 
of  never  filling  a  vase  with  flowers.  Worse  than 
that,  they  have  habits  that  are  so  objectionable — 
I  cannot  even  think  of  them,  but  they  keep  me  almost 
entirely  out  of  my  front  garden.  And  it  used  to 
be  where  I  found  my  greatest  pleasure." 

"They  were  trained  to  ideas  of  personal  modesty 
that  are  very  different  from  ours." 

"But  can  they  not  be  made  to  respect  our  ideas? 
I  am  speaking  for  all  the  women  in  Rosario,  not  for 
myself  alone." 

"If  they  were  born  beasts,  no  law  can  change 
them.     Do  you  not  find  any  compensations?" 

"There  are  none.  I  am  the  happiest  woman  in 
the  world,  Mr.  Coulters,  and  besides  I  naturally 
look  on  the  bright  side  of  things.  If  there  were  a 
single  point  to  recommend  those  Japanese  as  neigh- 
bors, you  may  be  sure  I'd  recognize  and  treasure  it. 
Here  is  Arthur  coming." 

"Welcome  to  our  champion,"  said  the  latter,  half 
in  earnest.  "Are  you  out  again  on  a  still  hunt  for 
dragons?" 

"I  hope  not,  but  there  are  a  few  questions  I  want 
to  ask  you.  You  must  both  promise  to  regard  them 
as  absolutely  confidential."  The  Hancocks  nodded 
assent. 

"Donald  has  just  learned  that  the  mortgage  on 
(312) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

his  place  was  sold  by  the  bank,  and  that  it  has  passed 
into  the  hands  of  some  undisclosed  client  of  Mc- 
Gowan's.  I  want  to  know  if  any  emissaries  of  that 
shyster  have  been  around  to  see  you,  or  any  of  your 
neighbors." 

"No  one  has  been  near  us  or  any  of  the  others, 
as  far  as  I  know.  How  serious  is  Donald's  predica- 
ment?" 

"He's  as  sound  as  a  whistle.  His  mortgage  has 
a  long  time  to  run,  his  interest  is  paid  for  three 
months  to  come,  and  he's  money  enough  to  meet 
his  current  bills.  There's  no  reason  for  feeling  un- 
easy, and  we  particularly  wish  to  avoid  starting  a 
rumor.  I'm  asking  you  these  questions  only  as  a 
matter  of  extra  precaution,  and  to  get  a  possible 
line  on  who  bought  Donald's  mortgage." 

We're  an  inconsistent  people,  we  Americans.  In 
many  respects  our  ideals  are  so  high  as  to  remind 
one  of  the  days  of  chivalry  as  we  pictured  them 
when  we  were  children.  Let  a  baby  be  lost  in  any 
spot,  city  or  country,  except  possibly  one  of  those 
unfortunate  districts  where  crying  infants  are  of 
such  frequent  occurrence  as  to  be  unnoticeable.  The 
point  will  be  illustrated  by  the  conduct  of  the  first 
passer-by,  whether  scrub-woman  or  silk-hatted  mag- 
nate. In  some  respects,  we  are  so  low  as  to  shame 
the  savages,  as  witness  for  one,  among  the  multi- 
tude of  examples,  child  labor  in  our  factories.  Mil- 
lions of  dollars  worth  of  merchandise  are  sold  every 
year  under  such  circumstances  that  the  buyer  and  the 
seller  trust  each  other,  have  only  a  verbal  agreement 

(313) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

regarding  price.  Yet  let  any  two  of  them  write 
out  a  contract,  and  if  they're  both  careful  business 
men,  the  paper  will  be  drawn  as  though  each  re- 
garded the  other  as  an  unmitigated  rascal.  But  of 
all  our  inconsistencies  the  most  glaring  are  the  eth- 
ics of  commerce,  the  tricky  acts  that  are  permissible, 
and  the  no  more  objectionable  ones  that  are  beyond 
the  pale. 

So  let's  not  judge  harshly  McGowan's  client. 
By  our  standards  his  conduct  was  unpardonable, 
and  yet  Hanba  had  an  honorable  record.  All  his 
life  he'd  been  a  confidential  agent,  and  without  ex- 
ception he  had  discharged  his  trusts  in  an  exemplary 
manner.  He  found  that  in  the  United  States  there 
was  being  played  a  great  game,  where  the  stronger 
took  from  the  weaker,  the  cleverer  from  the  more 
simple.  If  here  and  there  an  opportunity  were 
habitually  allowed  to  lie  idle,  it  may  have  been  far 
more  natural  for  him  to  suppose  that  this  was  the 
result — an  oversight  which  his  superior  mind  had 
grasped,  rather  than  the  result  of  an  unwritten 
agreement  that  certain  things  should  not  be  done. 

Hanba  was  no  weakling  working  with  kid  gloves. 
He  was  resourceful,  he  was  ruthless,  and  he  owed 
no  allegiance  except  to  the  people  he  represented. 
When  he  struck  it  was  with  the  suddenness  of 
thought,  with  all  the  strength  at  his  command.  Don- 
ald Scott  was  sued  on  the  promissory  notes  signed 
in  San  Diego,  and  the  suit  was  accompanied  by 
attachment  proceedings  which  covered  every  scin- 
tilla  of  property  that  could  be  reached,   including 

(314) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

the  bank  account.  The  action  was  timed  so  that 
the  check  which  paid  the  quarterly  water  rate  had 
not  yet  reached  the  water  company's  office. 

As  is  the  custom,  this  payment  was  made  on  the 
last  day  of  grace.  The  water  company's  clerk  was 
warned  by  McGowan,  so  the  check  was  taken  di- 
rectly to  the  bank,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  pass 
through  the  clearing  house,  with  the  consequent  de- 
lay of  twenty-four  hours  or  more.  When  payment 
was  refused,  Donald,  of  course,  became  delinquent 
for  the  amount  of  his  water  dues.  Trivial  as  that 
may  seem,  it  allowed  McGowan  to  foreclose  the 
mortgage. 

Then  the  lawyer  sent  for  the  farmer.  Once  again 
the  latter  journeyed  to  the  city  by  the  sea,  once  more 
he  crossed  its  sunny  streets  and  passed  into  the  semi- 
darkness  of  the  spider's  hole.  McGowan  went  over 
the  situation.  He  showed  Donald  that  there  must 
be  enough  cash  raised  at  once  to  meet  the  mortgages 
and  fifteen  hundred  dollars  in  notes.  He  argued 
that  no  one  from  the  outside  would  conceivably  bid 
at  the  sheriff's  sale,  for  the  Japanese  in  the  valley 
had  precluded  the  possibility  of  new  white  settlers 
and  had  greatly  depreciated  values.  He  admitted 
that  Donald  would  have  the  right  to  redeem  within 
a  year,  but  without  a  farm  in  his  possession  it  would 
not  be  possible  to  secure  the  needed  amount  of  ready 
money. 

McGowan  offered  two  thousand  dollars  in  cash 
and  all  the  notes  in  exchange  for  a  deed.  This  offer, 
he  explained,  must  be  acted  upon  at  once.     It  was 

(315) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

made  partly  to  avoid  the  expense  and  delay  of  liti- 
gation, partly  to  make  redemption  impossible  in 
theory  as  well  as  in  fact.  If  Donald  fought  and  lost 
he  would  receive  nothing,  every  rag  and  stick  he 
owned  would  be  sacrificed  for  those  notes. 

Scott  asked  for  a  week  for  consideration,  so  that 
he  could  consult  his  friends  in  Rosario,  but  was 
granted  no  more  than  the  remainder  of  the  day. 
So  he  returned  to  Bessie,  who  had  come  with  him 
to  San  Diego.  She  suggested  that  either  Hancock 
or  Winfield  might  aid,  but  Edward  had  just  left  on 
one  of  his  frequent  trips  to  Denver,  and  the  efforts 
to  have  Arthur  come  to  a  telephone  were  unsuc- 
cessful. 

With  this  two  thousand  dollars  they  could  live, 
and  also  continue  the  payments  on  Donald's  endow- 
ment policy,  so  they  would  not  be  entirely  destitute 
in  their  old  age.  Without  it  they  faced  starvation 
or  the  poor  farm.  Slowly  grew  the  conviction  in 
their  minds  that  horrible  as  it  was,  McGowan's  offer 
would  have  to  be  accepted. 

When  the  news  broke  in  Rosario  that  Donald 
Scott  had  fallen  victim  to  the  Japanese  absorption, 
and  that  Arthur  Hancock,  finding  himself  sur- 
rounded, had  likewise  sold,  the  consternation  of 
the  citizens  was  pitiful  to  see.  Those  two  men  were 
among  the  strongest  and  most  prominent  in  the  set- 
tlement; resourceful  and  cool  headed,  they  could  not 
have  been  rushed  into  any  hasty  act.  If  they  were 
not  safe,  then  no  security  was  to  be  had  for  anyone. 

The  name  of  the  grantee  in  both  deeds  was  Mari- 
(316) 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  DONALD  SCOTT 

shoto,  a  name  hitherto  unknown  to  the  Rosarians. 
They  were  no  less  dumbfounded  by  this  open  at- 
tempt to  override  the  new  law  than  they  were  that 
men  of  such  standing  should  have  been  attacked. 
No  explanation  came  to  the  valley,  for  Donald  and 
Bessie  never  returned.  They  wrote  to  many  of 
their  friends,  but  the  letters  told  little  of  what  had 
happened.  Pages  there  were  pregnant  with  the 
heartache,  with  love  for  the  home  and  the  valley, 
with  regrets  and  misgivings,  a  few  lines  about  the 
disposal  of  effects,  but  not  a  word  of  how  it  all  had 
happened. 

Little  by  little,  the  story  leaked  out,  as  such  sto- 
ries do.  With  it  came  the  further  knowledge  that 
Marishoto  was  an  infant,  born  near  Fresno  some 
three  years  before.  And  there  lay  the  answer;  he 
was  a  native  of  California,  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  and  so  not  included  within  the  scope  of  the 
anti-alien  law. 

"It  all  reminds  me  of  a  small  dog  I  once  saw 
chasing  a  ground  owl,"  Clem  Harding  said  to  Win- 
field. 

"What  is  a  ground  owl?"  asked  the  invalid. 

"You  must  have  seen  them ;  a  little  bird  not  much 
larger  than  a  pigeon,  that  likes  to  sit  in  the  sun. 
Sometimes  he  is  on  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  bur- 
rows, sometimes  on  a  fence  post;  he  always  looks 
helpless,  blinks  as  though  blinded  in  the  bright  light, 
yet  never  misses  anything  on  the  broad  horizon. 

"This  particular  owl  had  three  holes  out  in  the 
center  of  an  open  hay-field.     He  was  enjoying  the 

(317) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

air  in  front  of  one  of  them,  when  along  comes  a  fool 
dog,  who  makes  a  rush  at  the  owl,  and  when  the 
bird  takes  to  the  air,  runs  after  it  just  as  fast  he 
can.  Of  course  he  cannot  keep  up,  but  he  sees  the 
owl  light  by  a  hole  not  far  away,  so  on  he  goes. 
When  he  begins  to  get  too  close  the  little  ground 
owl  bobs  his  head  three  or  four  times,  then  flies 
over  to  his  third  burrow.  And  because,  when  beasts 
do  a  thing  once  they  are  apt  to  do  it  the  same  way 
over  and  over  again,  the  chase  goes  on,  just  as  long 
as  the  dog  can  drag  one  foot  after  the  other.  That 
is  like  us  after  these  Japanese;  we  always  think 
we  are  about  to  catch  them,  but  we  never  have  any 
more  chance  than  that  dog." 


(318) 


CHAPTER  XXV 

The  Decline  of  Hollington 

TTOLLINGTON  had  been  called  to  Santa  Rosa 
•*•-■"  on  a  number  of  occasions,  sometimes  to  treat 
patients  of  his  own,  but  more  frequently  to  consult 
with  the  local  physician,  a  Dr.  Hill.  Robert  had 
accepted  his  own  superiority  over  the  other  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  had  invaded  the  latter's  baili- 
wick with  the  unformulated  condescension  of  one 
who  confers  a  favor.  So  it  came  as  a  very  distinct 
shock  to  him  to  find  the  tables  turned  and  the  Santa 
Rosa  doctor  becoming  a  familiar  sight  on  the  streets 
of  Rosario. 

Dr.  Hill  had  abandoned  horse  and  buggy  for  a 
touring  car.  It  is  true  that  it  had  been  bought  sec- 
ond hand  and  was  one  of  the  cheapest  makes;  never- 
theless its  evident  purpose  was  to  enable  its  owner 
to  care  for  his  practice  in  Eden  Valley.  It  first 
put  in  appearance  not  long  after  Frances  had  gone 
to  San  Clemente,  when  Sam's  knee  was  so  badly 
injured  as  to  require  dressing.  But  while  it  was  not 
until  after  the  publication  of  the  letter  to  the  state 
board  of  education  that  Dr.  Hill  was  summoned 
by  any  other  family,  from  then  on  he  appeared  with 
increasing  regularity.  To  Robert's  growing  mor- 
bidness it  was  though  every  trivial  act  of  his  own 
was  misunderstood  and  misconstrued,  with  the  con- 
sequent   loss    of    practice    and    clientele.     He    was 

(319) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

blamed  for  matters  beyond  his  control,  beyond  the 
scope  of  his  knowledge,  until  it  seemed  that  every 
one  was  seeking  pretexts,  and  being  satisfied  with 
the  most  flimsy  excuses,  for  severing  friendly  re- 
lations. 

It  hurt.  If  he  were  losing  his  practice  to  a  more 
skillful  competitor  he  would  have  been  resigned, 
so  he  told  himself.  But  Robert  knew  he  had  given 
satisfaction  as  a  practitioner,  and  that  all  of  these 
deflections  were  purely  personal.  Without  excep- 
tion they  were  the  direct  result  of  his  having  gone 
out  of  his  way  to  make  himself  a  useful  citizen. 

A  doctor's  practice  cannot  disappear  as  suddenly 
as  can  the  trade  of  a  merchant.  Usually  Robert 
was  allowed  to  carry  through  any  case  he  might 
happen  to  be  treating.  Then  there  would  perhaps 
be  no  sickness  in  the  patient's  family  for  a  long  time, 
and  so  the  head  of  the  house  ordinarily  saw  no 
occasion  for  exposing  his  hand.  Sometimes  months 
would  elapse  before  Hollington  would  find  that  an 
apparent  friend  had  been  so  far  affected  by  a  real 
or  imaginary  grievance  as  to  choose  another  physi- 
cian. If  a  nervous  mother  read  of  an  unpleasant 
occurrence  in  a  Stockton  school,  Robert  was  apt  to 
be  the  scapegoat.  If  a  merchant  in  Portersville 
failed  because  of  Japanese  competition,  there  was 
every  likelihood  of  another  house  being  closed  to 
the  Rosario  doctor.  If  the  melon  growers  of  Braw- 
ley  handed  over  their  industry  to  the  Mongolians, 
he  would  pay  his  part  of  the  penalty. 

(320) 


THE  DECLINE  OF  HOLLINGTON 

One  of  the  first  results  of  this  growing  ill-feeling 
was  that  Hollington  was  forced  to  change  his  mode 
of  living.  He  was  unable  to  pay  Mrs.  Tilden  her 
modest  stipend  for  board,  or  her  husband,  who  con- 
ducted the  general  merchandise  store,  for  supplies 
that  the  small  roadster  demanded.  And  so  it  came 
about  that  the  machine  changed  owners,  and  was 
converted  into  a  delivery  wagon. 

Robert  still  maintained  his  offices,  and  as  he  had 
to  eat  he  installed  a  small  stove  in  one  of  the  back 
rooms.  From  time  to  time  Mrs.  Tilden's  daughter 
Edith  came  over  to  clean,  or  even  to  prepare  meals 
for  him.  But  he  became  less  and  less  able  to  afford 
as  much  as  that  small  luxury,  and  since  there  was 
no  possible  use  trying  to  keep  up  appearances  in 
so  small  a  community,  he  very  frankly  did  his  own 
cooking. 

His  practice  was  rapidly  becoming  limited  to  the 
Japanese,  the  Indians,  and  the  Mexicans  who  lived 
on  the  borders  of  the  settlement.  Mrs.  Richardson 
remained  under  his  care,  so  did  Edward  Winfield 
when  the  latter  happened  to  be  at  home,  and  there 
was  a  sprinkling  of  other  whites  who  braved  public 
opinion,  either  from  friendship  or  because  of  faith 
in  him  as  a  healer.  But  these  last  were  pitifully 
few.  At  best  a  rural  doctor  has  a  slender  income; 
the  numbers  within  his  reach  are  small;  their  out 
of  door  life  keeps  them  relatively  healthy,  and  their 
habits  forbid  them  to  call  in  payable  assistance  until 
it  becomes   necessary.     When  this   small   practice 

(  321 ) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

becomes  shattered  as  was  Robert's  the  residue  is 
almost  negligible. 

One  morning  during  these  dark  days  a  Japanese 
came  to  the  housekeeping  office.  He  introduced 
himself  as  Dr.  Hosho  Umiwinoru,  a  graduate  of 
the  imperial  university  of  Kioto,  of  the  Harvard 
Medical  school,  and  a  former  interne  of  the  Red 
Cross  hospital  in  Tokio.  He  had  come  to  Rosario 
to  settle,  and  was  making  a  formal  call.  Hollington 
was  greatly  pleased.  He  welcomed  the  proffered 
friendship,  he  anticipated  much  from  the  promised 
intercourse,  and  this  without  a  thought  of  the  effect 
on  his  own  prospects. 

He  was  disappointed  in  every  way.  With  that 
same  lack  of  pride  which  allows  a  well  bred  youth 
to  become  a  gardener  or  a  cook,  Dr.  Umiwinoru 
assumed  the  role  of  a  farm  hand.  He  started  his 
apprenticeship  in  this  new  vocation  by  attending  the 
little  streams  of  water  that  ran  through  the  rows 
of  trees.  His  evenings  were  devoted  to  medicine; 
it  was  only  for  a  call  of  exceptional  emergency  that 
he  would  lay  down  his  hoe.  He  was  in  America 
for  the  very  serious  purpose  of  making  money.  Any 
friendship  that  would  make  even  slight  demands  on 
his  time  or  energy  was  simply  out  of  the  question, 
and  so,  while  there  was  no  friction  between  the  two 
doctors,  their  acquaintance  made  no  progress  be- 
yond the  initial  meeting. 

The  Japanese  part  of  Hollington's  practice  left 
him  at  once  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  income  he 
derived  from  his  improvident  Mexicans  hardly  cov- 

(322) 


THE  DECLINE  OF  HOLLINGTON 

ered  the  expense  they  occasioned,  the  cost  of  visiting 
them  and  the  supplies  he  was  compelled  to  furnish 
the  indigents.  There  was  really  nothing  he  had  on 
which  to  subsist  except  the  nominal  stipend  which 
the  government  paid,  and  there  was  not  the  least 
prospect  of  an  alleviation,  so  he  resolutely  set  about 
to  see  if  it  were  possible  so  far  to  change  his  habits 
of  life  as  to  accommodate  himself  to  a  few  hundred 
dollars  a  year. 

Outside  recreation  there  was  none  except  what 
Mrs.  Richardson  had  to  offer.  He  saw  different 
members  of  the  Cuyamaca  tribe  quite  frequently  to 
be  sure,  and  he  was  so  far  reduced  by  loneliness  that 
he  tried  to  establish  friendships  with  them.  But 
the  undertaking  was  hopeless,  the  differences  too 
great,  their  natures  too  primitive.  For  instance,  it 
was  impossible  to  awaken  in  them  any  feeling  of 
gratitude  such  as  one  sees  in  the  southern  negro. 
They  were  glad  to  take  what  he  had  to  offer, 
whether  it  was  something  material  or  merely  advice, 
and  they  would  put  themselves  out  to  make  it  easy 
for  him  to  give.  But  they  received  the  gifts  in  just 
the  same  spirit  as  they  would  have  accepted  any 
stroke  of  good  fortune,  with  no  more  sentiment  or 
feeling  or  personal  obligation  than  they  would  have 
entertained  for  a  manifestation  of  nature,  a  timely 
rain  for  example,  that  saved  a  crop.  Ingratitude, 
the  white  men  called  this  racial  trait,  though  Robert 
grew  to  regard  it  rather  as  a  lack  of  mental  devel- 
opment, grew  to  believe  that  the  Cuyamaca  mind 

(323) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

was  too  feeble  to  generate  anything  so  far  removed 
from  a  purely  animal  emotion. 

The  natural  reserve  of  the  Indian,  the  superiority 
which  he  frankly  conceded  to  the  white  man,  and 
his  total  lack  of  interest  in  the  doctor  himself,  effec- 
tively barred  any  relation  of  an  intimate  nature. 
Frustrated  on  every  hand,  Robert  turned  to  his 
books  and  to  work,  where  he  found  forgetfulness, 
if  not  happiness.  He  was  soon  deep  in  the  study 
of  the  bubonic  plague,  fascinated  by  the  romance 
of  its  history  and  appalled  by  its  latent  menace  to 
the  world.  He  became  so  interested  that  after  ex- 
hausting his  text-books  and  the  government  publi- 
cations, he  sent  for  cultures  of  the  bacilli  pestis,  and 
bred  guinea  pigs  on  which  to  experiment. 

There  was  no  known  cure  or  preventive  for  this 
affliction,  and  it  was  inevitable  that  Robert's  inves- 
tigations should  soon  bring  him  to  the  unsuccessful 
attempts  of  others  to  discover  something  effective. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  was  making  original  ex- 
periments, impelled  no  less  by  interest  than  by  his 
inborn  love  of  mankind.  He  had  not  been  embit- 
tered by  suffering  and  injustice;  he  was  too  big  a 
man,  too  strong  for  that.  The  impulses  which  Dr. 
Ailing  had  awakened  and  directed  had  not  been  cre- 
ated during  that  memorable  forty-eight  hours;  they 
had  always  been  an  integral  part  of  the  man  him- 
self, running  so  deep  through  his  nature  that  they 
could  have  been  destroyed  only  by  a  fundamental 
change.  And  there  had  been  none ;  he  was  the  same 
Robert    Hollington,    matured    by    knowledge    and 

(324) 


THE  DECLINE  OF  HOLLINGTON 

experience,  buffeted  out  of  self-sufficiency,  but  un- 
marred  by  the  loss  of  any  ideal  or  the  growth  of  a 
single  hatred. 

There  came  to  him  one  day  a  letter.  It  was  from 
an  old  friend  and  schoolmate,  Randolph  Palmer, 
Mrs.  Pembroke's  youngest  brother.  It  told  of  a 
party  that  had  been  organized  for  a  two-year  cruise 
in  and  around  South  America,  the  Bering  Sea,  and 
the  Orient.  The  trim  little  yacht  Sultana  had  been 
chartered,  and  arrangements  were  now  being  com- 
pleted to  sail  in  about  a  month.  Both  of  the  Pem- 
brokes,  who  were  to  be  aboard  at  least  part  of  the 
time,  joined  Randolph  in  urging  Robert  to  join  in 
the  capacity  of  ship's  doctor.  When  he  read  that 
note  Hollington  almost  broke  down.  After  all,  he 
still  had  friends,  the  whole  world  was  not  against 
him.  He  began  to  picture  in  his  mind  the  personnel 
of  the  expedition.  He  remembered  well  that  Ran- 
dolph was  a  prince  of  entertainers,  and  knew  that 
the  party  would  be  composed  of  the  most  congenial 
people  imaginable. 

It  would  be  the  realization  of  one  of  Palmer's 
dreams,  and  Robert  knew  every  detail  of  where 
they  would  go  and  what  they  would  do,  for  as  young 
men  the  two,  smoking  before  a  wood  fire,  had  gone 
over  the  ground  many  an  evening.  Rio  de  Janeiro 
would  be  the  first  port  of  call,  for  they  had  decided 
to  pass  by  all  the  islands  and  shores  of  the  Carib- 
bean. There  would  be  excursions  into  unexplored 
portions  of  Brazil,  hunting  trips  to  Patagonia,  and 
sight  seeing  in  Chili.     Northward  would  they  go 

(325) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

until  stopped  by  eternal  ice,  where  the  great  white 
polar  bear  would  be  added  to  their  trophies. 
Then  down  the  coast  of  Asia,  filling  their  hold  with 
souvenirs  and  acquiring  reminiscences  from  many 
a  spot  where  the  white  man  was  unknown.  Ever 
southward  to  the  cradle  of  the  world,  to  study  at 
first  hand  the  oldest  known  civilizations. 

The  climax  would  come  among  the  islands  of 
the  South  seas,  the  enchanted  fairyland  of  romance. 
What  a  wonderful  opportunity,  and  what  a  con- 
trast! Robert's  eyes,  roaming  about  his  shabby 
office,  fell  upon  a  treatise  devoted  to  the  plague  in 
India.  He  recalled  a  passage  describing  the  first 
known  recognition  of  the  relation  between  the  house 
rat  and  the  epidemic.  "When  the  vermin  begin  to 
fall  dead  from  the  roofs  of  the  houses"  ran  the  old 
proverb,  "it's  time  for  men  to  take  to  the  hills." 
And  surely  the  rats  had  been  long  dropping  from 
the  roof  of  his  house. 

So  he  wrote  a  letter  of  acceptance,  but  destroyed 
it  because  it  revealed  too  clearly  his  destitution  and 
his  failure.  He  wrote  another,  only  to  tear  it  up 
as  too  formal.  He  had  half  completed  a  third  mis- 
sive before  he  understood.  The  reason  his  compo- 
sitions were  so  unsatisfactory  was  because  he  was 
not  going;  he  could  not  go.  Ever  through  his  brain 
was  running  a  melody,  softly,  sweetly,  gently  to  him- 
self he  was  singing  and  dreaming  "Twilight  in  the 
Rose  Garden." 


(326) 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Arrest  of  Clem  Harding 

'T^HE  Cleveland  forest  reserve  includes  the  moun- 
■*-  tains  lying  to  the  east  of  the  valleys.  It  is 
watched  over  by  widely  scattered  forest  rangers, 
men  known  chiefly  by  hearsay  to  the  Rosarians,  for 
the  guardians  of  the  woods  seldom  leave  the  higher 
levels.  Their  duty  is  to  protect  the  timber  from 
fire,  so  they  pay  but  scant  attention  to  the  brush 
covered  foothills.  Therefore,  some  surprise  was 
occasioned  when  a  new  warden,  Ralph  Harrison  by 
name,  made  his  headquarters  in  the  village.  All 
day  long  he  was  out  on  horseback  over  the  hills, 
every  evening  he  filled  in  and  mailed  a  long  report. 
He  still  found  time  to  meet  the  good  people  of  the 
settlement,  and  even  make  himself  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  Cuyamacas  and  the  Indians  of  a  num- 
ber of  other  tribes.  Harrison  was  generally  well 
liked.  If  he  worked  hard  and  was  uncommunica- 
tive, that  was  not  held  against  him,  for  the  west 
has  always  respected  a  man  who  attends  to  his  own 
business  and  seldom  speaks  of  it. 

Harrison  was  efficient,  a  fine  rider  and  well 
mounted.  He  was  versed  in  all  the  lore  of  wood- 
craft; nothing  less  was  to  be  expected  of  a  forest 
ranger.  He  was  a  more  skillful  tracker  and  a  more 
expert  reader  of  signs  than  was  customary  among 
his  associates,  and  he  differed  from  them,  too,  in 

(327) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

that  he  had  not  acquired  the  repose  that  usually 
comes  with  days  and  weeks  of  solitary  vigil.  The 
newcomer  was  of  a  nervous  temperament,  with 
every  movement  quick  and  decisive.  He  had  the  air 
of  a  born  fighter,  exaggerated  by  an  affectation  of 
extreme  care  in  arming  himself.  Whatever  his  war- 
like predilections,  they  remained  in  abeyance,  for 
no  one  in  peaceful  Rosario  could  conceivably  offer 
him  a  challenge. 

For  a  month  or  two  he  had  continued  his 
work.  Sometimes  he  would  be  out  in  the  wilds  for 
a  week  at  a  time,  and  often  there  were  days  together 
when  he  loafed  about  the  village,  feeding  an  appar- 
ently insatiable  curiosity  about  every  detail  of  his 
neighbors'  lives,  their  movements,  and  their  incomes. 
Had  there  been  anything  about  the  man  to  suggest 
incompetence  he  would  have  been  disliked,  and  con- 
sequently shunned.  But  he  had  previously  demon- 
strated that  he  had  ability,  so  the  feeling  became 
general  that  he  knew  what  he  was  doing,  that  he 
might  safely  be  left  to  the  exercise  of  his  own  judg- 
ment. 

One  day  he  took  the  train  to  San  Diego.  He 
offered  no  explanation,  but  none  was  expected  or 
requested.  Immediately  on  reaching  the  city  he 
went  to  the  office  of  the  immigration  bureau  in  the 
federal  building. 

"Hello,  Farley,"  said  the  chief,  "I  want  you  to 
meet  Mr.  Gibson.  He's  a  special  agent  from  Wash- 
ington, sent  here  to  find  out  why  we're  not  stopping 
the  Chinese." 

(328) 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

"I'm  very  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Farley,"  said  Gibson. 
"I'm  told  that  you're  the  best  out  of  doors  man  in 
the  service." 

Farley  smiled  deprecatingly.  "Are  they  still  com- 
ing across?"  he  asked. 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  in  the  past  thirty  days,"  the 
chief  replied. 

Farley  whistled.  "One  thing  is  certain,"  he  said, 
laughingly,  "they  aren't  passing  between  Rosario 
and  the  Salton  sea." 

"That  is  precisely  what  they  are  doing,"  returned 
the  chief. 

"Ridiculous!  Excuse  me,  chief,  but  a  hundred  and 
fifty  men  could  not  cross  that  line  without  leaving 
some  marks,  and  if  they  had  made  as  much  as  a 
scratch  I  would  have  seen  it.  They  must  have  come 
through  on  this  side,  where  they  could  hide  their 
tracks  in  the  traffic,  or  else  have  gone  up  in  launches ; 
or  perhaps  they  are  still  in  San  Diego." 

While  the  chief  proved  himself  right,  demon- 
strated to  his  subordinate's  satisfaction  that  it  was 
through  the  Rosario  country  that  the  Asiatics  had 
passed,  let's  take  a  general  survey  of  the  situation, 
so  as  to  understand  a  little  of  what  the  conflict 
means.  The  golf  course  at  Shanghai  will  serve  as 
a  starting  point.  It's  a  lovely  course,  frequented 
by  charming  people,  but  it's  neither  the  sportiness 
of  the  links  nor  the  condition  of  the  fairway  which 
interests  us  now,  but  the  caddy  fees.  In  this  country 
we  don't  pay  less  than  seventy-five  cents  for  a  single 
round,  while  there  the  charge  is  two  dollars  a  month. 

(329) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Lower  in  the  scale  the  difference  in  wages  becomes 
more  marked,  the  great  Asiatic  empire  is  overflow- 
ing with  men  who  do  hard  work  through  long  hours 
for  a  ridiculously  small  number  of  pennies.  When 
one  remembers  the  tariff  of  the  Chinese  laundry- 
man,  vegetable  peddler  or  domestic,  one  is  not  sur- 
prised at  the  desire  of  the  submerged  Oriental  to 
escape  to  the  western  hemisphere.  He  would  come 
in  hordes,  he  would  crowd  the  capacious  steerage 
of  the  liners  that  run  to  San  Francisco  and  Puget 
Sound,  but  for  the  barriers  that  the  United  States 
throws  across  his  path. 

Exclusion  is  almost  an  accomplished  fact  and  the 
number  of  Chinese  on  the  Pacific  coast  is  constantly 
dwindling.  Yet  there  are  adventurous  souls  who 
still  migrate  to  the  land  of  freedom,  who  run  the 
gamut  of  all  the  ingenuity  of  our  federal  inspec- 
tors, and  who  remain  with  us  long  enough  to  amass 
a  substantial  competence.  Their  path  is  strewn  with 
the  wrecked  hopes  of  those  who  fail,  but  having  so 
much  to  gain,  so  little  to  lose,  there  is  a  constant 
stream  seeking  ingress. 

Their  point  of  attack  is  usually  northern  Mexico. 
Some  go  there  with  the  deliberate  intention  of  cross- 
ing into  the  United  States.  Large  numbers  have 
been  brought  to  Guaymas  and  other  Mexican  cities 
to  be  contract  laborers,  and  have  been  drawn 
towards  the  boundary  as  by  a  loadstone.  Anywhere 
from  the  Point  of  Rocks  to  the  Colorado  River 
they  endeavor  to  slip  across  the  line,  hoping  to  sink 
themselves  in  the  Chinatowns  of  one  of  the  larger 

(330) 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

cities.  Once  safe,  the  fugitive  is  apt  to  buy  a  sec- 
ond-hand "check-gee,"  an  official  permit  to  remain 
in  this  country.  The  vendor  is  perhaps  ready  to 
return  to  the  celestial  empire,  so  he  takes  two  profits, 
one  from  his  successor  whose  purchase  is  technically 
worthless,  the  other  from  our  government,  which, 
finding  the  simple  minded  coolie  without  papers, 
ships  him  home  at  its  own  expense.  The  newcomer 
is  reasonably  safe,  both  because  he  is  well  versed 
in  guile  and  because  identification  is  almost  impos- 
sible. 

A  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  of  wild  border 
and  the  coast  line  within  the  sailing  radius  of  a 
launch,  have  to  be  guarded.  It  speaks  volumes  for 
the  efficiency  of  our  immigration  bureau  that  with 
it  lie  the  honors  of  war.  Money,  after  all,  is  the 
criterion  of  success.  The  fact  that  the  average 
price  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  head  is  paid 
for  smuggling  these  undesirable  aliens  shows  how 
conscientious  is  the  vigil  on  cliff  and  beach,  in  the 
river  bed  of  Tia  Juana  and  on  the  hills  of  Campo, 
in  the  wilds  of  Jacumba,  and  on  the  desert  of  Cal- 
exico.  More  than  cool  daring  has  to  be  discounted; 
Chinese  have  been  found  under  loads  of  hay,  or  the 
false  bottoms  of  boats,  they  have  been  artistically 
disguised  as  Japanese,  or  hidden  in  the  brush  as 
carefully  as  a  miser  hides  his  gold.  Every  conceiv- 
able part  of  an  automobile  has  been  made  to  dis- 
gorge this  contraband.  In  a  land  where  imagination 
is  as  untrammeled  as  the  air  the  poetry  of  concep- 

(331) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

tion  has  outdone  itself  on  this  modern  underground 
railroad. 

The  case  under  discussion  was  the  most  serious 
leak  that  had  yet  occurred.  Spies  in  Tijuana  and 
reports  from  San  Bernardino  left  no  room  for 
doubt,  either  as  to  numbers  or  as  to  route.  Farley 
reluctantly  conceded  that  the  process  of  elimination 
left  him  the  onus. 

A  few  days  later  he  was  out  over  the  mountains 
again,  responding  to  a  report  that  there  had  just 
been  a  marked  decrease  in  the  number  of  Chinese 
in  Tecate.  The  chief  had  urged  extra  vigilance,  for 
the  rumor  has  gone  abroad  that  this  was  to  be  the 
last  run,  that  the  gang  was  about  to  divide  its  profits 
and  disband. 

"Their  getting  past  me  is  not  so  bad,"  mused 
the  rider,  as  his  horse  picked  its  way  among  the 
barren  rocks,  "for  it's  a  long  way  from  Eden  Valley 
to  Palm  Springs.  I  can't  hope  to  see  them,  for 
they  always  travel  in  the  dark  and  build  no  camp 
fires.  The  man  who  guides  them  is  no  fool,  that 
is  certain;  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  he  is  a 
little  wiser  than  any  of  us.  Think  of  taking  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men  across  this  desert  and  leaving 
no  sign,  at  least  none  that  I've  been  able  to  detect. 

"They  used  to  call  me  a  pretty  good  trailer  in 
the  upper  Missouri.  I  heard  the  chief  tell  Gibson 
that  I  was  brought  down  here  because  I  was  the 
best  tracker  and  the  best  gun  man  in  the  northwest. 
That  is  drawing  it  pretty  strong,  for  my  old  home 
is  where  they  have  the  keenest  men  in  the  world. 

(332) 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

Anyway,  I've  been  at  the  business  all  my  life,  in  the 
best  of  schools,  and  I  must  be  above  the  average  or 
I  wouldn't  be  here.  Along  comes  this  stranger  and 
slips  Chinamen  under  my  nose,  takes  hundreds  of 
them  by  without  leaving  as  much  as  a  broken  twig 
that  I've  found.  It's  no  great  compliment  to  the 
state  of  Montana.  Hello,  here  are  some  more  cattle 
tracks ;  perhaps  he  puts  those  coolies  inside  the  cows. 

"About  ten  days  old,"  mused  Farley,  after  mak- 
ing a  careful  study.  "Twenty-two  head,  I  think,  of 
long-horn  steers.  One  Mexican  herding  them,  driv- 
ing them  hard.  Sorrel  pony,  with  a  ringbone  on 
his  left  hind  ankle.  I  wonder  why  he  is  taking  them 
south?"  Farley  followed  the  trail  for  several  hours. 
He  didn't  learn  anything  further  until  he  came  to 
a  place  where  the  hoof  prints  turned  into  the  brush, 
leaving  the  path  they'd  been  following  so  carefully. 
In  another  hundred  yards  the  herder  had  his  charges 
under  control,  but  the  officer  swung  off  his  horse, 
and  on  hands  and  knees  examined  that  part  of  the 
cattle  trail  which  had  not  been  so  recently  travelled. 

"Nearly  six  weeks  old.  It  never  rains  in  these 
mountains,  they  say,  but  it  does  blow.  There  were 
some  cattle  going  north  not  less  than  a  month  ago, 
might  be  two  or  three.  Same  pony  herding,  that 
much  is  clear.  I  wish  someone  would  tell  me  the 
answer." 

Farley  rode  east  all  the  rest  of  that  day,  making 
camp  at  a  water  hole  of  which  he  knew.  He  had 
not  travelled  far  the  next  morning  before  he  came 
to  some  fresh  tracks.    A  hasty  survey  told  him  that 

(333) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

it  was  the  same  herd  and  the  same  horse  that  he 
had  followed  the  day  before;  this  time,  however, 
they  were  northbound,  and  the  sign  was  but  two 
days  old.  Again  Farley  made  a  thorough  exam- 
ination, but  discovered  nothing  beyond  convincing 
proof  that  his  surmise  was  correct.  He  galloped 
after  the  mysterious  band  as  fast  as  he  dared  hurry 
his  horse  in  the  intense  heat  of  the  desert  edge. 
"I  wish  I  could  travel  at  night  as  they  do,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "They're  not  many  miles  away;  I  may 
overtake  them  before  sundown  and  make  this  devil's 
country  give  up  one  of  its  secrets." 

He  soon  came  to  a  spring  where  the  herd  had 
rested  through  the  day,  and  there  Farley  spent  all 
of  a  precious  half  hour.  "There's  something  about 
this  that  I  don't  like,"  he  said.  "Those  cattle  are 
handled  by  a  man  who  knows  his  business  thor- 
oughly, yet  they  mill  around  that  water  hole — "  out- 
running his  words  there  entered  his  mind  the  sus- 
picion that  the  stock  had  been  moved  about  inten- 
tionally, that  the  obliteration  of  every  suggestion 
of  a  camp  had  been  because  there  was  something 
to  hide.  He  rode  harder  than  ever  now,  he  became 
more  alert  and  more  cautious,  to  the  extent  of  even 
loosening  his  rifle  in  its  scabbard  and  carrying  his 
revolver  in  his  hand. 

Not  long  after  his  noon  rest  he  came  to  the  top 
of  a  ridge.  Before  him  were  spread  miles  of  coun- 
try, monotonously  dry  and  hot  and  sterile.  There 
were  beauty,  and  colors,  too,  among  the  rocks  the 
rain  almost  never  touched,  among  the  hills  that  ran 

(334) 


"Drop  that  gun!" 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

from  the  pines  on  his  left  to  the  desert  on  his  right. 
But  he  was  blind  to  nature,  he  who  usually  loved 
such  a  view.  With  binoculars  he  was  searching  for 
his  quarry. 

"They  must  be  in  camp  along  that  creek  bed,  the 
water  holes  are  there.  They  are  surely  by  one  of 
the  three  springs.  I  had  best  reconnoiter  them  with 
some  little  care." 

Two  hours  later  he  was  half  a  mile  from  the  first 
of  the  possible  camp  sites.  He  dismounted,  con- 
cealed and  fastened  his  pony,  and  proceeded  on  foot, 
carefully,  stealthily.  But  although  a  sentry  could 
not  have  detected  his  masterly  approach,  he  found 
no  recent  indications  of  anyone  having  been  near 
that  water,  so  he  picked  up  the  cattle  trail  again 
and  went  back  for  his  horse.  As  he  skirted  a  large 
boulder  that  was.  not  far  from  the  animal,  he  heard 
a  sharp,  commanding  voice  from  behind: 

"Drop  that  gun!" 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  obey.  Farley  turned 
slowly,  to  confront  an  easily  held  revolver,  and  a 
man  whose  face  was  masked  behind  a  red  bandana. 

"Clem  Harding!"   he  exclaimed. 

The  highwayman  disgustedly  tore  off  his  disguise. 
"Who  would  have  expected  it  to  be  you?  Hey, 
hombre !"  he  shouted,  and  presently  a  Mexican  ap- 
peared, much  more  thoroughly  disguised  than  Clem 
had  been. 

"Find  his  handcuffs  and  slip  them  on  his  wrists," 
Clem  spoke  in  Spanish,  a  language  easily  understood 
by  the  three.     "Bueno,  now  give  me  his  gun.     Ride, 

(336) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

back  to  camp,  bring  enough  for  two  men  and  two 
horses  for  three  days." 

The  Mexican  showed  his  surprise.  "For  two 
men?"  he  asked,  and  in  spite  of  himself  Farley 
began  to  feel  queer  about  the  stomach.  Harding 
dismissed  his  messenger  with  an  impatient  wave  of 
the  hand. 

"Mr.  Harrison,"  said  Clem.  "You  and  I  are 
going  to  see  a  good  deal  of  each  other  for  the  next 
few  days,  so  let  us  start  in  by  getting  acquainted. 
I  want  to  see  the  star  on  your  suspender  strap." 

"My  full  name  is  Ralph  Harrison  Farley,  and 
I  am  an  immigration  inspector,"  the  other  replied 
pleasantly,  showing  his  badge  of  authority  as  well 
as  he  could  with  his  manacled  hands.  "While  the 
introductions  are  going  on  would  you  mind  telling 
me  how  you  happen  to  be  mixed  up  in  this  nasty 
mess?" 

"I  needed  the  money.  I  hate  to  rub  it  in,  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  you're  in  a  lot  nastier  mess  now 
than  I." 

"You  either  have  to  kill  me  or  turn  me  loose," 
said  the  inspector,  "and  if  you  had  intended  murder 
you  wouldn't  have  sent  away  your  man  Friday." 

"Don't  be  too  sure.  It's  your  life  or  mine,  for 
Hollington  has  often  told  me  that  I  couldn't  survive} 
a  year  in  close  quarters." 

Neither  spoke  again  until  the  provisions  had 
come.  Farley's  horse  was  brought  to  him,  and  the 
men  rode  to  the  nearest  water  hole.  Here  the  Mex- 
ican left  them,  with  detailed  instructions.    "I'll  keep 

(336) 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

this  man  three  days,"  said  Clem  in  conclusion.  "Let 
the  cattle  go,  for  I'll  watch  your  back  track.  Travel 
as  fast  as  you  can,  and  do  just  as  we  have  always 
done.     Adios." 

uAdios,  Senor,"  and  he  was  gone. 

"So  that's  how  you  did  it,"  said  Farley,  admir- 
ingly. "Drove  the  steers  behind  to  cover  their 
tracks." 

"And  also  kept  away  from  the  skyline  during 
daylight." 

The  federal  officer  laughed.  "That  was  foolish," 
he  admitted.  "Just  yesterday  I  was  telling  myself 
that  I  must  be  a  pretty  good  woodsman,  but  I'll 
have  to  confess  that  you're  my  master,  yes,  and 
master  of  anyone  else  I  know,"  he  added  generously. 

"Thanks,"  said  Clem,  preparing  the  camp  fire 
and  the  supper.  "I've  been  at  it  a  bit  longer  than 
some  others." 

When  the  meal  was  finished  Farley  again  started 
the  conversation.  "I'm  downright  sorry  to  see  you 
doing  this,  Harding.  You  always  seemed  a  man 
of  too  high  moral  fibre — " 

"There's  nothing  wrong  about  it,"  said  Clem, 
shortly. 

"Nothing  wrong  about  it?" 

"Not  for  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"The  United  States  says  the  Japanese  may  come 
in  but  the  Chinese  may  not.  That  is  because  we're 
afraid  of  Japan." 

"Not  at  all,  for  the  Japanese  are  excluded,  too." 
(337) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Enough  are  here  to  have  taken  almost  all  the 
farms  in  Rosario.  The  only  chance  I  had  to  save 
mine  was  to  make  a  lot  more  money,  and  this  is  the 
best  way  that  offered.  If  it's  right  for  the  Japanese 
to  come  in  and  take  my  place,  it  is  right  for  the 
Chinese  to  come  in  and  save  it." 

It  was  not  until  the  next  morning,  with  the  sun 
half  way  to  the  meridian,  that  the  talk  between 
these  two  again  took  a  personal  tone.  "You  are  a 
nice  boy,  Farley,  but  I'm  growing  to  hate  you. 
Nothing  but  you  stands  between  me  and  my  home. 
I  could  shoot  you  with  absolute  safety,  for  I've  an 
alibi  so  perfect  that  I  wouldn't  even  be  suspected. 
I  wonder  if  you  can  imagine  what  that  home  means 
to  me?   No,  you're  too  young." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Farley,  kindly.  He  knew 
he  was  perfectly  safe,  and  he  was  genuinely  sorry 
for  the  old  man.  So  Clem,  always  glad  to  talk, 
told  of  his  day  dreams,  of  how  through  youth  and 
middle  age  he  had  never  had  a  home,  had  never 
ceased  to  long  for  one.  How  the  slowly  accumu- 
lated savings  of  years  of  hard  work  had  gone  into 
the  farm  in  Eden  Valley,  of  how  he  had  struggled 
against  advancing  age  and  a  series  of  misfortunes, 
and  had  held  on  in  spite  of  everything.  It  was  a 
story  of  more  than  attachment,  it  was  the  revelation 
of  the  life  passion  of  a  childless  old  age,  the  orange 
grove  and  the  house  were  parts  of  the  man  himself. 
He  justified  his  conduct;  good  old  gambler  that  he 
was,  he  didn't  whimper  because  he  had  lost,  but 
neither  would  he  admit  that  he'd  made  an  error 

(338) 


ARREST  OF  CLEM  HARDING 

in  judgment.  "I  played  a  long  shot,"  he  said,  "and 
I  still  believe  it  was  a  good  bet." 

When  the  third  day  broke,  Clem  made  his  plans 
for  departure.  He  had  Farley  write  a  note  to  the 
chief,  explaining  the  situation.  This  Clem  agreed 
to  mail ;  by  the  time  the  officer  was  rescued  the  fugi- 
tive would  be  hiding  in  Mexico.  Then  came  the 
problem  of  making  the  inspector  secure  and  still 
not  too  uncomfortable.  It  was  accomplished  with 
the  aid  of  an  extra  pair  of  handcuffs  which  Clem 
fastened  about  his  ankles,  thus  effectively  hobbling 
him. 

"Don't  work  too  hard  to  free  yourself,  for  you 
couldn't  cross  this  country  afoot  without  water,  and 
I'm  going  to  take  your  horse  and  your  water  bags. 
Be  patient."  And  waving  a  farewell,  the  pioneer 
leading  one  horse  and  riding  the  other,  disappeared 
down  the  draw. 

Two  hours  later  Farley  heard  the  crunch  of  steel 
shod  hoofs  on  gravel,  and  there  was  Clem  Harding 
and  the  two  ponies. 

"Have  you  forgotten  something?"  asked  the  cap- 
tive. 

"I  almost  did."  Clem  swung  himself  to  the 
ground,  unlocked  the  handcuffs  on  the  ankles,  then 
those  on  the  wrists,  and  passed  both  revolvers  to 
the  astonished  man.  "I  almost  forgot  that  I  never 
ran  from  anything  yet,  and  I'm  too  old  to  learn. 
If  I  could  have  saved  the  farm,  I  would  have 
gone  on,  for  I  haven't  done  anything  I  think  is 
wrong.    But  as  I've  lost  my  home  anyway  I'll  take 

(339) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

my  medicine.  With  that  dear  old  place  gone  free- 
dom isn't  worth  the  struggle  and  the  price.  I  like 
you,  Farley;  you  must  take  all  the  credit  for  this 
that  you  can  get,  and  I'll  not  contradict  a  word." 

"I'll  tell  the  chief  that  you  outgeneralled  me  at 
every  stage  of  the  game,  and  that  the  only  reason 
I'm  bringing  you  in  is  because  your  conscience  made 
you  let  me.  We'll  fix  it  for  you,  we'll  get  you  off 
free.  All  you'll  have  to  do  is  to  tell  us  about  the 
others." 

"Mr.  Farley,  did  you  know  that  we  ran  a  hundred 
and  eighty  Chinamen  across  the  line?" 

"I  suspected  it." 

"And  that  my  share  is  thirty  dollars  apiece?" 

"You  told  me  so." 

"I  didn't  offer  to  divide  with  you,  and  I  think  I'm 
entitled  to  as  much  consideration  and  respect — " 

"I  apologize  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  Mr. 
Harding.  Will  you  take  my  hand  on  it?  I  wish  to 
God  I  had  a  right  to  set  you  free." 


(340) 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  Last  Trench 

'T^HERE  was  a  subdued  air  of  excitement  about 
-*■  the  Coulters  home,  for  Dr.  Ailing  was  coming 
to  spend  the  day.  The  medical  convention  which 
had  brought  him  to  the  coast  demanded  so  much 
of  his  time  that  a  few  hours  between  trains  was 
all  that  he  could  spare  Rosario.  Sam  was  to  meet 
him  at  the  station  to  bring  him  to  lunch,  and  after 
the  meal  they  had  planned  to  drive  over  the  valley. 

When  the  old  spring  wagon  drew  up  and  the 
doctor  alighted,  he  was  met  with  an  enthusiasm  that 
well  repaid  him  for  the  long  trip  from  Chicago. 
Mary  Coulters  and  her  two  daughters  and  Billy 
Evans  were  all  that  were  there  to  welcome  him, 
but  they  were  so  genuinely  glad  to  see  him  that  he 
could  hardly  keep  the  catch  out  of  his  voice  when 
he  spoke  to  them.  They  seated  him  on  the  porch, 
pulled  their  chairs  about  his,  and  proceeded  to  ply 
him  with  questions. 

"You're  all  as  bad  as  Sam,"  he  protested  at  last. 
"Ever  since  I  left  the  cars  I've  been  trying  to  talk 
of  Rosario,  but  I'm  allowed  to  speak  only  of  myself. 
I  know  something  of  what  has  happened,  and  I  want 
to  know  the  rest.  Tell  me  about  the  Warners  and 
the  Kraemers  and  the  Scotts,  about  Clem  Harding 
and  Dorothy  Tibbetts,  and  all  the  others." 

(341) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  suppose  we  must,"  said  Mary.  "But  it'll  cost 
us  all  the  gaiety  of  this  reunion." 

So  they  told  him  in  detail  everything  that  had 
happened  while  he  had  been  away.  With  serious 
faces  they  answered  questions  until  luncheon  time 
brought  a  respite  to  their  distress.  It  was  after  the 
meal  was  well  started  that  Robert's  name  was  intro- 
duced, for  Ailing  had  noticed  their  unwillingness  to 
mention  him. 

"You've  not  spoken  of  Hollington  at  all,"  he  said 
when  he  had  exhausted  every  means  to  make  some- 
one else  introduce  the  subject.  "I  was  very  much 
interested  in  that  boy.  I  liked  his  personality  and 
admired  his  ideals  and  his  cleverness.  He's  been 
doing  some  research  work  on  the  plague  that  reflects 
great  credit.  I  used  to  hear  about  him  very  often, 
for  everyone  was  fond  of  him  and  had  a  good  word 
to  say.  Of  late,  however,  I  seem  to  have  been  out 
of  touch  with  him.  What  is  he  doing,  and  how  is 
he  getting  along?" 

Ailing  turned  toward  Sam  for  an  answer.  A  hard 
look  had  come  to  the  eyes  of  the  Rosarian,  for  the 
once  famous  poker  face  could  not  be  depended  upon 
when  Robert  was  under  discussion.  Ailing  looked 
around  the  table.  Billy  and  Ruth  had  dropped  their 
eyes  to  their  plates  and  Frances  was  struggling  un- 
successfully for  enough  self-control  to  enable  her 
to  answer.  Mary  Coulters  met  her  guest's  eye  with 
a  reassuring  smile.  She  knew  she  must  try  to  put 
him  at  his  ease,  even  though  her  efforts  were  obvi- 

(342) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

ously  forced  and  awkward.  So  she  asked  the  first 
question  that  came  into  her  mind. 

"Tell  us  about  the  plague,"  she  said,  the  sugges- 
tion coming  from  the  safest  part  of  his  remarks. 
"I've  often  heard  of  it,  but  supposed  it  was  under 
control,  or  at  least  confined  to  Asia." 

"There  was  a  year  when  it  took  every  fourth 
person  in  Europe,"  he  replied.  "So  you  see  it  has 
no  geographical  limitations.  And  it  still  levies  a 
fluctuating  toll  that  will  average  perhaps  a  million 
lives  annually,  so  you  can  hardly  regard  it  as  under 
control.  It  has  a  fascinating  history  that  began 
when  the  Jews  left  Egypt.  Sometimes  it  will  smol- 
der for  years  and  then  die  out  harmlessly,  sometimes 
it  will  skip  entire  centuries  only  to  break  loose  more 
virulently  than  ever.  The  fact  that  it  has  been  quiet 
for  a  long  time  is  no  guarantee  that  it  will  remain 
so,  nor  is  all  our  skill  and  knowledge  anything  like 
sufficient  protection.  The  whole  world  is  at  its 
mercy,  lulled  into  a  sense  of  false  security." 

"I've  heard  that  it's  carried  by  fleas  and  rats," 
said  Frances,  taking  her  part  now  that  she  could. 

"That's  still  a  matter  of  conjecture.  My  personal 
opinion  is  that  the  fleas  carry  the  disease  from  rat 
to  rats,  but  not  to  mankind,  for  it's  fairly  well  estab- 
lished that  the  pulex  cheopis  is  too  highly  special- 
ized to  leave  a  rat  to  bite  a  human  being.  But  I 
must  confess  that  the  consensus  of  the  fraternity  is 
against  me  on  that  point.  The  plague  is  primarily 
a  disease  of  the  rats,  but  we  can  take  it  from  them, 
and  so  can  squirrels  and  guinea  pigs,  and  most  of 

(343) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

the  rodents.  Other  animals  are  subject  to  artificial 
inoculation.  Once  you  get  enough  of  the  bacilli  in 
the  air  and  in  our  food,  you  will  find  that  they 
spread  rapidly  enough." 

"Is  the  plague  very  deadly?"  asked  Ruth. 

"It  has  been  known  to  attack  three  persons  in 
every  four  throughout  extended  districts,  and  to  kill 
nine  out  of  ten  that  contracted  it." 

"Is  there  no  cure?"  asked  Billy. 

"None  that  really  amounts  to  anything." 

"It  sounds  to  me  as  though  the  discovery  of  one 
would  be  about  the  greatest  possible  achievement 
left  to  medicine." 

"Hardly  that,  yet  you  are  not  so  very  far  wrong." 

When  lunch  was  finished,  Sam  and  Ailing  pre- 
pared for  their  drive.  They  were  to  cover  as  much 
of  Eden  Valley  as  was  possible  in  a  few  hours,  and 
the  doctor  promised  faithfully  to  save  time  enough 
to  see  them  all  again  before  he  left.  No  sooner 
were  the  two  men  fairly  started  than  Ailing  again 
spoke  of  Robert. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  between  you  two,"  he  said. 
"But  I  am  going  to  see  that  boy.  Leave  me  at  his 
office  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  we'll  go  wherever 
you  wish." 

For  Robert  Hollington  this  day  marked  the  end. 
A  letter  lay  upon  his  desk,  a  half  opened  note,  that 
made  impossible  a  longer  stay  in  Rosario.  Whether 
he  was  to  leave  under  a  cloud,  discredited  and  dis- 
illusioned, or  was  to  step  to  the  heights  occupied 
by  men  of  world-wide  fame  was  something  that  soon 

(344) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

must  be  disclosed.  For  the  letter  was  from  Wash- 
ington, from  the  department  of  the  Interior,  and 
informed  him,  without  even  the  courtesy  of  a  reason, 
that  the  government  no  longer  required  his  services 
in  connection  with  the  Cuyamaca  Indians. 

He  had  read  that  communication  more  than  once. 
He  had  pondered  upon  the  effect  that  it  was  to  have 
on  him,  he  had  been  over  and  over  the  ground  seek- 
ing some  escape  from  the  inevitable  conclusion  that 
it  meant  his  departure.  He  had  friends  from  whom 
he  could  and  would  borrow  if  he  left,  but  he  was 
too  proud  to  think  of  doing  such  a  thing  while  he 
remained  in  California.  For  there  was  work  await- 
ing him  in  the  east,  trivial,  ill-paid  work,  but  it  would 
enable  him  to  repay,  to  buy  food  and  clothes.  But 
at  home,  even  with  that  federal  position  his  watch 
and  personal  effects  had  gone,  and  a  bill  of  sale 
lay  against  the  contents  of  his  office,  his  books,  his 
furniture  and  laboratory  supplies,  everything. 

"I've  seen  many  a  better  man  go  before  me,  and 
now  my  turn  has  come.  We  each  have  had  to  give 
up  something.  If  mine  seems  the  hardest  experi- 
ence of  them  all  I  must  be  broad  enough  to  recog- 
nize that  every  one  of  the  others  has  suffered  his 
special  pain.  Yet  I'm  the  only  one  who  has  left  his 
loved  one  behind,  the  only  one  who  will  not  receive 
as  much  as  a  word  of  farewell.  I  can't  judge  the 
others,  can't  tell  how  much  they  suffered,  but  I  know 
that  human  misery  can't  go  deeper  than  it  has  gone 
with  me. 

"Are  we  men  less  the  children  of  circumstances 
(345) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

than  these  guinea  pigs  of  mine?  You  poor  little 
devils,  there  are  several  dozen  of  you.  Eight  go  into 
one  cage  for  control.  They're  to  be  safe  and  pam- 
pered, yet  through  no  credit  to  themselves.  Here 
are  two  pens,  each  containing  six,  which  are  doomed 
to  a  certain  and  painful  death.  Some  are  to  have  the 
plague  with  pneumonia  added,  some  simply  bubonic 
plague.  They  have  no  choice,  they  have  done  no 
wrong,  yet  were  they  human  humanity  would  strive 
to  blame  them  in  some  way.  There  are  the  others, 
all  with  the  disease  in  one  form  or  another;  their 
lives  depending  solely  on  my  skill  and  the  accuracy 
of  my  reasoning.  They  will  fight  and  struggle,  they 
will  act  as  though  in  some  way  they  could  control 
their  fate,  could  affect  the  doom  that  will  either 
overtake  them  or  pass  them  by. 

"Somehow  it  all  reminds  me  of  poor  Rosario. 
Translate  Japanese  into  plague  germs,  and  think  of 
the  settlements  that  have  not  been  touched.  The 
conception  reminds  me  of  dear  old  Clem;  it  is  just 
what  he  would  have  said,  so  that  must  be  why  I 
thought  of  it,  he  is  so  seldom  out  of  my  mind.  Poor 
Clem!  I  wonder  if  I  can  show  a  courage  as  great 
as  yours." 

As  Hollington  had  said,  there  was  cage  upon  cage 
of  the  rodents.  All  but  one  small  group  had  been 
infected  with  the  plague  germs,  and  many  of  the 
animals  were  dying,  slowly  and  horribly.  A  full 
half  of  the  entire  number  had  been  treated  with  a 
serum  worked  up  from  the  supra-renal  glands  of 
ground  squirrels  that  had  contracted  the  disease  and 

(346) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

recovered.  The  test  had  been  exhaustive,  the  rem- 
edy had  been  administered  in  doses  of  various  size 
and  in  all  stages  from  the.  most  critical  on  one  hand 
to  pure  prevention  on  the  other. 

At  daylight  that  morning  Robert  had  begun  his 
long  vigil  before  the  pens.  Everything  had  been 
timed  to  come  to  a  head  during  the  ensuing  twelve 
hours.  Running  true  to  form  there  were  pens  that 
had  been  inoculated  but  not  treated,  and  here,  with- 
out exception,  were  the  characteristic  symptoms, 
buboes  or  septicaemia  as  the  case  might  be. 

As  the  hours  slipped  by  it  became  more  and  more 
apparent  that  the  serum  was  effective,  not  only  in 
most  cases  but  in  all  cases.  It  had  brought  the 
progress  of  the  disease  to  an  immediate  halt,  re- 
gardless of  the  condition  of  the  victim.  Modern 
science  demands  more  than  conjecture.  Nothing 
short  of  absolute  proof  will  satisfy  it;  and  any  man 
who  has  been  so  roughly  handled  as  had  Robert 
would  surely  be  slow  to  believe  in  his  own  good 
fortune.  The  evidence  that  was  slowly  unfolding 
could  not  but  be  accepted  by  both.  The  year  of 
incessant  study  and  work  and  experiments  had  borne 
a  fruit  the  results  of  which  could  hardly  be  over- 
estimated. Institutions  would  vie  for  his  services, 
societies  would  heap  honors  on  him,  with  his  youth 
and  health  a  great  future  lay  before  him. 

He  paced  his  room  as  these  truths  were  borne 
in  upon  him.  Slow  to  realize  and  believe,  he  had 
the  imagination  to  accept  the  situation  in  all  its 
aspects.    And  yet,  so  far  from  bringing  him  happi- 

(347) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ness,  he  was  spending  the  most  depressing  and  mis- 
erable hour  of  his  existence. 

"I've  accomplished  it,"  he  said,  "and  now  to  what 
can  I  look  forward?  It's  the  leaving  that  matters, 
not  the  destination." 

It  was  such  thoughts  as  these  that  Dr.  Ailing 
burst  in  upon.  "Robert,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you."  The  older  man's  whole  heart 
was  in  those  simple  words,  and  in  the  hand  grasp 
that  accompanied  them.  He  radiated  his  pleasure 
in  the  meeting  to  such  an  extent  that  Robert  re- 
sponded as  though  to  a  strong  stimulant.  The  re- 
action from  his  depression  was  sudden  and  com- 
plete, for  the  poor  fellow  had  seen  no  such  cordiality 
for  many  a  day. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  became  apparent 
to  both  as  they  stood  facing  one  another  and  ex- 
changing commonplaces.  When  they  had  last  been 
together  it  was  Robert  who  had  been  more  carefully 
dressed,  now  it  was  Ailing.  It  was  not  exactly  the 
lack  of  care  of  clothing  or  person  that  the  young 
physician  exhibited,  but  an*  indefinable  something, 
incongruities  of  one  kind  or  another,  that  bore  a 
suggestion  of  the  shabby  genteel.  The  condition  of 
the  rooms  in  the  same  way  betrayed  the  absence  of 
prosperity,  for  a  bit  of  dust  here  or  an  unnatural 
arrangement  there  showed  how  little  these  offices 
were  used. 

"I  have  lost  my  practice,"  said  Robert,  reading 
the  Chicagoan's  thoughts.  "Not  only  in  part,  but 
absolutely.     It    seems    incredible    that    while    once 

(348) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

everyone  for  miles  around  was  sending  for  me,  to- 
day I  have  not  a  single  patient." 

"I  was  prepared  for  something  of  the  sort,  but 
not  for  any  such  collapse  as  this.  Tell  me  what  has 
happened?" 

"I  really  do  not  know;  I  tried  to  model  my  career 
on  yours,  and  at  first  I  succeeded  beyond  my  expec- 
tations. Then  little  by  little  I  lost  my  friends,  I 
suppose  because  they  were  too  uncharitable  and  I 
was  too  unyielding.  Dr.  Hill  drives  over  from 
Santa  Rosa  to  care  for  the  whites,  the  Japanese 
have  their  own  doctor,  and  today  I  have  learned 
that  even  my  Indians  have  been  taken  away." 

The  medical  practitioner  sees  more  of  the  shad- 
ows of  life  than  men  in  any  other  walk.  He  learns 
to  read  human  nature,  he  almost  unconsciously 
studies  the  men  whom  he  meets,  just  as  Dr.  Ailing 
was  doing  now,  prompted  by  force  of  habit,  not 
suspicion.  There  was  nothing  about  the  young  doc- 
tor that  could  account  for  his  extremity;  neither 
vices  nor  an  uneasy  conscience  were  his.  So  Ailing, 
giving  the  most  careful  attention  and  asking  the 
most  searching  questions,  persuaded  him  to  tell  his 
story. 

"I  admire  your  courage,  Robert,  and  your  devo- 
tion to  ideals,  which  is  more  than  I  can  say  of  your 
judgment.  You  have  had  a  bitter  lesson,  my  boy, 
so  I  will  not  preach.  You  have  learned  for  your- 
self that  man  is  gregarious  and  that  you  can't  plunge 
blindly  forward  without  recognizing  or  making  al- 
lowances for  others.     If  you  ran  across  a  crowded 

(349) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ballroom  floor  while  a  dance  was  in  progress,  and 
did  not  stop  or  turn  for  anyone,  you  would  not  be 
very  popular  when  you  reached  the  other  side.  You 
had  certain  plans  which  you  were  determined  to 
follow,  but  you  had  absolutely  no  elasticity." 

"What  would  you  have  done  if  such  things  had 
happened  to  you  ?  Would  you  have  drawn  the  color 
line  and  said  to  yourself  that  your  duty  demanded 
only  so  much  of  you,  and  no  more?" 

"When  Roosevelt  was  asked,  'What  would  you 
have  done  had  you  been  president  when  the  Lusita- 
nia  was  sunk?'  'Had  I  been  president  the  Lusitania 
would  not  have  been  sunk,'  was  the  reply." 

"I  suppose  it's  all  my  fault." 

"To  some  extent,  yes.  You  stayed  here  too  long, 
for  one  thing." 

"I  had  my  work,  you  know." 

"Oh  yes,  on  the  plague.    How  is  it  progressing?" 

"I've  discovered  a  cure,  and  this  morning  I've 
proved  it." 

"If  that  statement  is  correct,  Robert,  do  you 
know  what  it  will  mean  to  you?" 

"In  a  way  I  do.  It's  all  so  new  that  I  haven't 
had  time  as  yet  to  think  it  out." 

"Do  you  care  to  tell  me  about  it?" 

"Yes,  and  I  want  you  to  be  as  sceptical  as  you 
can.  I'll  go  over  it  all  while  you  concentrate  on  a 
search  for  flaws." 

Then  it  was  that  Robert  had  his  hour  of  triumph. 
The  elation  that  had  not  come  when  he  was  alone 
followed  quickly  in  the  wake  of  Alling's  growing 

(350) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

admiration.  Step  by  step  the  details  of  the  gruel- 
ling work  were  unfolded,  the  history  was  revealed 
of  whole  months  of  experiments  that  had  to  be 
thrown  away  as  useless.  There  was  related  the 
story  of  the  birth  of  the  great  idea,  and  the  reason- 
ing that  lay  behind  its  conception.  Preliminary  work 
seemed  to  substantiate  it,  so  the  present  exhaustive 
series  of  tests  was  staged. 

From  pen  to  pen  the  two  doctors  went.  Every 
animal  was  separately  examined,  its  condition  care- 
fully noted  on  a  rough  chart,  and  every  added  entry 
proved  that  Hollington  had  won.  When  the  work 
was  completed  and  the  last  blank  had  been  filled, 
both  studied  the  paper  with  great  care. 

"There  is  no  room  for  question,  positively  none," 
was  Ailing' s  verdict.  "Your  demonstration  that 
this  serum  will  cure  guinea  pigs  must  be  accepted 
by  the  profession.  There  remains,  however,  to 
show  that  it  will  be  as  effective  in  the  case  of  human 
beings." 

"Yes,  but  that  is  a  pure  formality,  for  it's  exactly 
the  same  disease  with  us  as  it  is  with  them.  It  must 
work  in  every  case." 

"Have  you  ever  thought  of  what  use  you  will 
make  of  this  discovery?" 

"Not  beyond  publishing  it." 

"You  will  probably  be  sent  to  San  Francisco  or 
to  the  Orient  by  the  Rockefeller  institute,  to  prove 
it  more  thoroughly  and  to  teach  and  improve  your 
technique.    After  that  you'll  have  a  future  so  much 

(351) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

broader  than  mine  that  I  feel  honored  in  being  in 
your  confidence." 

"If  all  this  is  so,  I  know  that  nothing  can  ever 
give  me  more  pleasure  than  you're  giving  me  now. 
You're  the  master  whom  I  have  tried  to  follow, 
and  your  approbation  means  more  to  me  than  the 
praise  of  strangers." 

"It's  all  true  enough,  Robert.  I'm  going  to  in- 
dulge myself  in  a  little  reflected  glory  by  loaning  you 
some  money,  taking  you  east  with  me,  and  introduc- 
ing you  and  your  discovery.  By  the  way,"  he  added, 
"I've  a  newspaper  with  me  which  contains  an  article 
on  the  plague.  I  noticed  the  headline,  but  did  not 
have  time  to  read  it.  Perhaps  it  will  interest  us  to 
see  what  was  said." 

He  took  a  San  Diego  morning  paper  from  his 
pocket,  turned  over  the  sheets  until  he  found  the 
title  for  which  he  was  looking,  and  both  men  read 
the  quarter  column  of  text.  It  told  of  a  discovery 
by  a  doctor  in  Baltimore  of  a  positive  cure  for  the 
plague,  and  outlined  precisely  the  same  theories  that 
Robert  had  been  expounding  to  Ailing.  It  told 
something  of  the  labor  that  had  preceded  the  dem- 
onstration, and  was  profuse  in  its  prophesies  of  the 
honors  which  would  be  heaped  upon  the  latest  ar- 
rival in  the  medical  hall  of  fame. 

The  two  turned  to  each  other  in  consternation. 

"I've  never  been  thrown  against  a  more  damna- 
ble piece  of  ill  luck.  Robert,  I'm  more  sorry  for  you 
than  I  can  tell." 

"It  means  that  all  this  work  has  been  wasted," 
(352) 


THE  LAST  TRENCH 

said  the  other,  incredulously,  still  hardly  able  to 
grasp  the  full  meaning  of  the  situation.  "I  could 
have  accomplished  just  as  much  in  five  minutes  by 
reading  that  article.  We  have  nothing  here  that 
is  not  known  to  the  whole  fraternity,  and  my  posi- 
tion is  the  same  as  though  the  whole  thing  had  been 
a  flat  failure." 

"It  is  too  bad,"  was  all  that  could  be  said  by  the 
man  of  ready  words. 


(353) 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Irving  Stanhope's  Sermon. 

[~T  was  Sunday  morning.  Gone  from  the  valley 
■*■  were  the  week  day  sounds,  the  creaking  of 
wagons  and  the  clanking  of  plows.  No  anvil  filled 
the  air  with  the  ringing  of  steel  on  iron,  the  staccato 
vibrations  of  no  gasoline  motor  came  with  char- 
acteristic short,  sharp,  irregular  puffs.  Peace  at 
least  there  was  on  earth,  and  good  will  there  also 
seemed  to  be  as  lark  and  finch,  linnet  and  mocking 
bird,  finding  their  first  timid  notes  no  longer 
drowned,  burst  into  a  riot  of  untrammeled  song. 
Even  the  steady  west  wind  was  subdued,  adding 
merely  a  gentle  rustle  as  it  stirred  the  grain  stalks 
and  orchard  leaves. 

Upon  this  sometime  sacred  repose  came  the  call 
to  worship.  No  one  can  say  that  it  was  only  in 
the  imagination  of  those  who  heard,  that  this,  the 
last  time  a  Christian  church  was  to  hold  services  in 
Rosario,  the  tones  of  the  bell  were  sadder  than  had 
been  their  wont,  that  the  swelling  sound  was  more 
wistful  and  more  appealing  than  it  had  been  before. 
Certain  it  is  that  the  accustomed  worshipers  had 
felt  no  such  thrill  on  other  Sunday  mornings  as  they 
felt  today  when  the  strokes  with  lessened  strength 
told  of  the  approaching  end  of  Christian  worship 
in  Eden  Valley,  the  mocking  echo,  flung  back  from 

(354) 


IRVING  STANHOPE'S  SERMON 

the  mountains,  proclaiming  the  final  triumph  of  pa- 
ganism. 

A  saddened  congregation  filed  silently  through  the 
doors.  Every  white  man  in  Eden  Valley  was  pres- 
ent, yet  the  numbers  were  so  few  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  the  service  was  conducted  with  the  usual 
formalities. 

It  was  to  worship  the  God  of  their  fathers  in 
the  land  which  had  been  given  them  for  that  purpose 
that  this  Rosarian  remnant  of  Christian  civilization 
had  assembled  for  the  last  time.  They  were  too 
intent  on  the  sorrows  of  the  situation  to  give  much 
heed  to  the  details  of  what  was  passing  about  them. 
But  little  by  little  the  spell  of  the  music  and  the 
environment  of  sanctity  brought  them  out  of  them- 
selves and  carried  them  away  from  the  things  of  this 
world.  But  by  the  time  the  minister  commenced 
his  discourse  the  congregation  was  ready  to  hear. 

It  was  not  the  Reverend  Irving  Stanhope  whom 
they  knew  so  well,  but  a  younger,  stronger  Stanhope, 
who  now  addressed  them.  True,  the  thin,  grey 
locks  were  there,  and  the  wrinkled  face,  but  a  new 
fire  shone  in  the  eyes,  a  new  energy  was  manifest 
in  the  wasted  frame,  which  though  but  momentary 
was  none  the  less  impressive. 

"There  has  never  been  a  time,"  he  said,  "that  a 
Christian  church  so  well  entrenched  and  so  long 
established  as  ours  has  been  driven  out  by  pagan- 
ism, and  left  without  hope  of  returning.  For  well 
over  a  hundred  years  one  church  or  another  that 
acknowledged  Jesus  has  been  supreme  in  Eden  Val- 

(355) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

ley,  but  after  today  there  will  be  no  organized  wor- 
ship here,  save  the  worship  of  idols  and  of  ancestors. 
I  wonder  if  any  of  us  realizes  what  this  change 
means  to  our  country.  The  fate  of  Rosario  alone 
may  be  of  little  importance,  but  as  typifying  the 
potential  fate  of  the  United  States  it  means  much. 
Hanba  boasts  that  at  no  time  has  he  had  over  twelve 
thousand  dollars  invested  in  Eden  Valley.  The  first 
lesson  we  are  taught  is  that  in  no  settlement  not 
superior  to  Rosario  in  this  country  can  the  church 
maintain  itself  against  the  onslaught  of  a  crafty 
paganism  which  can  control  twelve  thousand  dollars. 
And  if  with  twelve  thousand  dollars  Rosario  can 
thus  be  destroyed,  certain  millions  can  capture  the 
United  States. 

"Why?  Our  little  church  building  and  the  main- 
tenance of  the  minister  is  an  example  that  will  do 
as  well  as  any  other.  We  must  take  more  than  a 
bare  living  out  of  the  soil.  We  lose  money  under 
conditions  where  the  invader  is  making  a  profit. 
Give  him  his  due,  he  is  clever  and  hard  working, 
qualities  which  carry  far.  The  white  brain  is  the 
stronger  of  the  two;  the  white  physique  can  endure 
more,  but  the  white  engine  needs  the  larger  supply 
of  fuel.  We  can  stand  the  competition  of  the  Indian 
and  the  negro,  of  the  Mexican  and  the  Hindu,  be- 
cause though  their  standards  of  living  are  even 
lower  than  the  Japanese,  their  mentality  and  their 
output  is  so  far  below  his  that  there  is  no  real  com- 
petition. There  is  no  need  of  argument,  no  need 
of  proving  these  statements,  for  you  yourselves  are 

(356) 


IRVING  STANHOPE'S  SERMON 

at  once  the  argument  and  the  proof.  So  the  one 
point  I  will  make  while  I  am  closing  this  edifice, 
while  I  am  taking  presumably  never  to  return  the 
word  of  the  Father  and  the  Son  from  this  valley, 
is  that  the  closing  was  not  voluntary,  but  forced. 
The  loss  of  one  small  church  is  of  little  importance, 
but  if  that  loss  is  a  test  of  strength  between  two 
cults  and  two  cultures;  if  it  prove  that  paganism  can 
overrun  Christianity  at  will,  if  it  prove  that  idolatry 
and  ancestor  worship  can  point  to  any  church  of 
ours  and  claim  it  for  a  victim,  the  incident  becomes 
pregnant  with  significance. 

"And  it  has  proven,  at  least  as  far  as  any  rural 
community  is  concerned,  that  without  different  laws 
our  civilization  and  our  church  alike  are  helpless. 
Nowhere  in  this  country  could  a  people  be  found — 
I  make  but  one  exception — who  could  have  fought 
more  nobly  or  more  courageously  than  have  the  Ro- 
sarians.  Nowhere  could  a  people  be  found — again  I 
withhold  one  name — who  could  have  less  to  look 
back  upon  with  regret,  who  could  have  left  less  un- 
done to  save  their  homes  and  their  religion." 

The  impassioned  voice  became  quiet.  Over  the 
speaker  there  came  a  change  so  great  that  some 
half  rose  in  their  seats  as  if  to  go  to  his  assistance. 
He  waved  them  back;  for  though  old  and  weak  he 
held  himself  under  control. 

In  no  one's  ears  had  his  words  a  more  sinister 
meaning  than  in  those  of  Frances  Coulters.  She 
looked  again  at  Robert's  accustomed  seat,  now  va- 
cant.    She  wondered  if  he  had  been  advised  to  re- 

(357) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

main  away  while  he  was  being  denounced  from  the 
pulpit.  And  while  she  waited  until  Stanhope  should 
regain  his  strength,  there  came  to  her  the  knowl- 
edge that  she  was  going  to  the  man  she  loved  in 
the  moment  of  his  degradation,  that  he  was  to  take 
what  benefit  he  could  from  the  sympathy  and  the 
love  that  she  could  bring. 

"I  cannot  preach  a  farewell  sermon.  I  cannot 
preach  at  all."  The  fire  and  the  life  were  there,  but 
the  man  was  old  and  battle-worn,  and  he  was  plead- 
ing. "It  is  not  enough  that  I  should  tell  you  what 
your  lives  must  be;  and  I  can  no  longer  show  you, 
I  can  no  longer  ask  you  to  follow  me.  My  people, 
I  have  passed  my  seventy-eighth  birthday,  and  yet 
I  am  but  a  child  who  craves  to  put  his  head  on  his 
mother's  breast,  a  child  made  weary  by  his  own  con- 
science and  who  wants  to  confess  and  be  forgiven, 
even  though  punishment  intervene. 

"For  twenty  years  I  have  exhorted  you  from  this 
same  pulpit,  but  now,  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  stand 
in  it,  I  shall  reverse  the  roles,  I  shall  lay  bare  my 
soul  to  you  that  you  may  judge  me,  and  condemn 
me  if  you  will,  for  only  by  so  doing  can  I  hope  to 
make  my  peace  with  mankind  and  with  God. 

"When  our  beloved  townsman,  Clem  Harding, 
stood  by  the  ruins  of  the  home  for  which  he  had 
fought,  and  sinned;  when  the  handcuffs  were 
snapped  about  his  wrists  and  he  was  led  away  to 
serve  the  sentence  that  means  more  than  death  to 
him,  he  was  not  beaten.  'I  have  done  my  damned- 
est,' he  said,  'and  angels  could  do  no  more.'    Oh, 

(358) 


IRVING  STANHOPE'S  SERMON 

my  brethren,  if  only  I,  a  minister  of  the  gospel  of 
Christ,  within  the  sacred  precincts  of  this  building 
dedicated  to  his  worship,  standing  upon  the  plat- 
form erected  to  expound  the  teachings  of  him  who 
died  to  save  us,  and  speaking  with  all  reverence, 
could  I  but  apply  to  myself  the  words  of  that  unfor- 
tunate man!  Could  I  but  say  with  him  that  I  had 
done  my  best. 

"Such  is  my  confession.  The  commandments 
given  to  us  at  Mount  Sinai  I  have  kept  every  one. 
Mine  is  not  the  story  of  some  one  act  atoned  for; 
my  sin  covers  the  twenty  years  I  have  been  with 
you,  and  stretches  back  years  before  that. 

"I  wrought  with  the  spirit  to  save  souls.  Early 
in  my  work  I  was  rebuffed.  Everyone  had  vices 
that  would  not  be  relinquished,  and  my  youthful 
zeal  overwhelmed  me.  I  had  set  my  ambitions  high. 
I  began  with  what  was  nearest,  and  I  worked  for 
my  end  with  heart  and  soul.  Thirty-five  years  later 
I  came  to  Rosario  so  badly  beaten  that  I  tried  no 
longer  to  do  more  than  my  bare  duty.  Sometime 
during  those  thirty-five  years  my  spirit  had  been 
broken;  little  by  little  I  had  found  how  hard  and 
cold  a  world  is  ours,  how  monstrous  its  inertia.  It 
was  satisfied,  it  did  not  want  what  I  had  to  offer, 
I  could  not  force  it  to  accept  my  ideals.  So  I  al- 
lowed a  feeling  of  delicacy  and  my  natural  sensi- 
tiveness to  encrust  me  until  at  some  period  early 
in  that  thirty-four  years  I  had  reached  a  state  where 
I  was  doing  nothing  more  than  what  came  to  me; 

(359) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

the  world,  its  troubles  and  its  follies,  were  passing 
to  one  side. 

"Such  I  say  is  my  confession;  for  fifty  years  I 
admit  my  life  to  have  been  a  failure;  that  instead 
of  fighting  I  have  done  nothing  but  drift.  The  half 
of  a  century,  or  ever  since  the  civil  war  I  have  had 
no  part  in  the  changes  that  have  taken  place ;  I  have 
been  an  idle  spectator  during  a  period  of  the  world's 
greatest  progress.  Had  I  tried  and  failed  I  would 
not  be  ashamed;  for  failure  is  often  a  preliminary 
of  success.  But  I  did  not  try,  I  made  no  effort  to 
do  my  share  for  the  general  uplift. 

"There  are  two  men  in  Rosario,  and  only  two, 
who  hold  postgraduate  degrees.  Both  are  doctors, 
one  of  divinity  and  one  of  medicine.  To  which  of 
them,  think  you,  fell  the  duty  of  searching  the  se- 
cluded spots  for  those  who  needed  guidance,  of 
bringing  succor  to  those  who  could  not  stand  alone? 
One  of  them  went  on  in  the  even  tenor  of  his  way 
and  made  no  effort,  the  other  fell  from  the  first 
position  in  this  valley  to  a  level  so  low  that  scarce 
a  soul  will  admit  his  friendship;  fell  because  regard- 
less of  consequences,  he  tried.  Which  of  them, 
think  you,  is  the  real  failure?  The  outcast  who  did 
not  vary  from  what  he  thought  was  right,  who 
shirked  nothing  for  the  sake  of  expediency,  who 
compromised  nothing  with  his  conscience,  or  the 
man  who  speaks  to  you,  the  pillar  of  society,  and 
the  head  of  the  church  who  had  no  part  in  this 
magnificent  failure,  who  preached  what  others 
should  do  but  who  did  nothing  himself?    It  is  not 

(360) 


IRVING  STANHOPE'S  SERMON 

success  that  discloses  a  man's  character;  it  is  not 
as  you  see  him  in  his  hours  of  ease  that  you  can 
correctly  judge  him.  My  friends,  you  have  been 
put  to  the  test  as  have  few  communities  in  our 
country;  and  of  you  all,  of  those  present  and  of 
those  who  one  by  one  have  dropped  from  among 
us,  I  alone  have  failed  to  give  a  proper  account 
of  myself.  That  I  could  have  done  nothing  had  I 
tried  is  no  excuse.  Neither  the  convict  nor  the  fallen 
idol  accomplished  anything,  neither  the  charity  of 
our  women  nor  such  self-sacrifice  as  that  of  Sam 
Coulters  was  of  material  profit,  for  our  loss  is  com- 
plete. But  think  of  how  souls  have  been  strength- 
ened and  proved,  while  I — 

"People,  when  adversity  comes  to  a  common- 
wealth like  ours  some  meet  their  fate  one  way,  some 
another,  some  succumb  to  weakness,  or  are  over- 
taken by  folly,  or  are  ruined  by  credulity.  Some 
disclose  strength,  some  go  to  their  doom  fighting 
nobly;  others  only  after  exhausting  all  their  strength 
in  a  struggle  for  the  better  life.  Honor  those  vir- 
tues, for  they  have  been  tried  under  fire,  and  have 
sustained  searching  tests. 

"Be  charitable  to  faults;  remember  the  law  of 
averages,  that  in  any  given  number  there  must  de- 
velop just  so  many  who  will  do  wrong.  Think  you 
it  is  possible,  when  all  are  exposed,  that  not  even 
one  young  woman  will  be  injudicious?  Think  you 
it  is  possible  when  all  are  tempted  that  not  even 
one  man  will  try  to  save  himself  by  crime?    We, 

(361) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

survivors  for  the  moment,  have  seen  our  number 
decline.  Do  not  forget  that  we  once  represented 
human  nature  in  the  aggregate,  that  about  so  many 
of  us  were  bound  to  succumb  in  one  way,  about  so 
many  in  another.  Try  to  realize  that  those  acts 
upon  which  we  look  back  with  regret  were  inev- 
itable, admit  that  among  so  large  a  number  every 
experience  we  have  had  was  certain  to  occur,  then 
say  that  the  particular  individual  destined  to  fill  any 
given  role  was  not  a  matter  of  accident. 

"When  I  bespeak  charity,  I  plead  for  myself. 
If  my  reasoning  is  correct,  there  had  to  be  one  to 
stand  aside  and  do  nothing.  I  seek  no  exoneration, 
I  do  not  offer  this  in  extenuation,  there  is  less  excuse 
for  me  than  for  any  who  have  failed,  the  least 
excuse  and  the  greatest  blame.  I  hope  that  in  time 
your  bitterness  may  turn  to  charity,  more  I  cannot 
expect. 

"Such  has  been  my  short-coming.  With  this  con- 
fession behind  me  I  feel  better  and  freer,  but  my 
usefulness  as  your  leader  has  come  to  an  end.  There 
is  but  one  further  act  I  am  fitted  to  perform;  there 
is  the  refuge  of  saint  and  sinner  alike.  Will  you 
follow  me  in  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  bring  to  an  end 
divine  worship  in  Rosario?" 

The  prayer  was  said;  the  minister  sank  back  in 
his  seat  exhausted.  The  farewell  hymn  was  sung 
and  the  congregation  dispersed.  The  first  to  reach 
the  minister  was  Frances,  bringing  him  sympathy 
and  cheer.    Her  father  was  but  a  step  behind,  while 

(362) 


IRVING  STANHOPE'S  SERMON 

her  mother  persuaded  the  poor  old  man  to  come 
to  their  Sunday  dinner.  There  was  not  a  soul  who 
had  listened  to  Stanhope  but  who  managed,  in  spite 
of  diffidence  and  awkwardness,  to  convey  to  him 
the  assurance  that  he  had  in  no  wise  fallen  in  the 
general  estimation. 


(363) 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Love's  Clearing  House 

TpRANCES  slept  fitfully  that  night.  And  when 
■*■      she  awoke  her  mind  was  still  in  confusion. 

She  would  have  gone  to  him  if  he  had  been  de- 
nounced from  the  pulpit,  even  to  this  victim  of  the 
needle;  for  in  that  moment  when  she  had  thought 
he  was  to  be  cast  out  of  human  society  she  had  been 
betrayed  into  admitting  to  herself  that  she  loved 
him.  Loved  him  in  spite  of  everything,  loved  him 
with  a  passion  that  asked  nothing  for  herself,  and 
cared  nothing  for  what  he  had  done,  loved  him 
with  an  unreasoning  desire  to  stand  beside  him  and 
shield  him  as  a  mother  her  child. 

If  Stanhope  had  made  the  gulf  between  them  so 
broad  and  deep  as  to  be  impassable,  she  would  have 
made  it  passable  and  have  gone  to  him.  Too  hon- 
est to  deny  this,  once  she  had  been  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge it,  too  honest  to  deny  that  it  was  pride  which 
stopped  her  now,  she  fought  the  temptation  while 
the  dawn  came  stealing  into  Rosario.  And  all  the 
while  the  colors  deepened  in  the  picture  of  herself 
standing  beside  him.  She  would  not  go  to  him,  she 
could  not.  Maidenly  pride  forbade  it;  self-respect 
would  not  endure  the  thought  of  it.  And  so  she 
.went  to  him. 

Love  appears  under  varied  aspects,  as  in  physical 
desire,  in  propinquity,  or  even  a  consciousness  with- 

(364) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

out  cause  of  existence.  Love  is  a  longing  to  share 
all,  to  break  down  every  barrier,  content  with  the 
knowledge  that  the  other  mind  is  in  harmony.  Love 
is  an  insatiable  craving  for  companionship;  it  will 
tolerate  no  division  of  interest,  it  will  endure  long 
separations  for  moments  of  fulfillment.  Love  is  the 
melting  of  two  into  one,  the  creation  of  a  family 
from  individual  units,  due  perhaps  to  friendship,  to 
admiration,  to  affection,  to  numberless  everyday 
emotions.  But  it's  not  of  these,  not  in  its  full  blown 
realization,  not  in  that  transcendant  development 
that  comes,  perhaps,  only  to  a  few,  that  came  to 
Frances  Coulters  when  she  realized  that  she  was  no 
longer  an  entirety  in  herself,  but  had  become  a  part 
of  a  new  and  concrete  existence. 

What  need  to  follow  the  emotions  awakened  by 
one  mistaken  idea  ?  The  Arabian  fisherman  could 
no  more  have  replaced  the  genii  within  the  bottle 
than  could  poor  Frances  have  controlled  the  desire 
to  go  to  Robert  which  now  obsessed  her.  She  said 
she  would  not  go,  even  as  she  dressed  herself  with 
unusual  care.  She  proved  to  herself  that  she  could 
not  go,  even  as  she  left  the  house  on  an  errand 
which  may  or  may  not  have  been  necessary.  She 
told  herself  that  no  harm  lay  in  her  going  home  past 
his  office,  for  it  was  hardly  out  of  the  way.  But 
she  did  not  even  pretend  to  have  conscious  control 
over  her  actions  when  she  turned  down  the  pathway 
and  opened  the  door  of  his  reception  room. 

Robert,  with  no  delay,  had  flung  open  the  door  of 
his  laboratory,  but,  recognizing  Frances,  he  stopped 

(365) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

on  the  threshold,  spellbound.  Coatless  and  collar- 
less  he  was,  his  hair  rumpled  over  his  forehead,  one 
sleeve  rolled  above  the  elbow.  In  his  left  hand  he 
held  a  letter,  his  right  still  was  on  the  doorknob,  as, 
speechless  with  surprise,  he  looked  at  his  caller. 
She  did  not  miss  the  flash  of  triumphant  happiness 
that  came  to  his  eyes,  came  and  went  with  the  speed 
of  thought. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said.  "I  hope  it  is  not  you 
who  needs  my  services."  He  thought  his  profes- 
sional manner  best  calculated  to  put  her  at  her  ease. 

"Robert,  are  you  sure  it's  not  you  who  needs 
miner 

"I  don't  understand." 

"I'm  offering  you  a  helping  hand.  I  thought  per- 
haps if  I  talked  to  you  a  little  I  might  start  you  on 
a  road  that  would  lead  you  back  to — to — " 

"To  what,  Frances?"  the  question  was  asked  in 
the  kindest  manner. 

"Oh,  I  can't  express  it  in  words,  but  you  know 
there  has  been  a  great  change  in  you  since  you  came 
to  Rosario." 

"To  what  particular  do  you  refer?" 

"Robert,  I  came  here  to  offer  you  serious  help, 
not  to  bandy  words.     How  am  I  to — " 

"Frances,  we  are  at  cross  purposes  once  more. 
Please  tell  me  what  you  mean." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will.  I  came  here  to  per- 
suade you  to  discontinue  the  use  of  morphine." 

Robert  came  into  the  room,  closing  the  door  be- 
hind him.     "Please  be  seated,"  he  said,  offering  a 

(366) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

chair.  "This  is  serious.  I  know  you  would  not  ac- 
cuse me  of  such  a  thing  without  good  reason.  Why 
do  you  believe  that  I  am  addicted  to  the  use  of  mor- 
phine?" 

"Everyone  knows  it.  How?  Look  in  your  mir- 
ror, compare  what  you  see  with  what  you  were  when 
we  first  met.  Study  the  lines  in  your  face,  your 
dishevelled  appearance,  the  condition  of  your  cloth- 
ing. I  never  realized  before  how  much  you  must 
have  fallen  in  your  own  esteem." 

"Frances,  I  am  going  to  prove  to  you  that  I  have 
had  nothing  to  do  with  morphine  or  any  other 
drug."  There  was  a  strength  and  vitality  in  his 
voice  that  in  itself  belied  the  accusation  of  degen- 
eracy. "Look  at  my  eyes,  make  a  mental  picture  of 
my  pupils — " 

"Oh  Robert,  I  know  I  was  wrong,  and  I'm  so 
glad." 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  the  truth  about  some  things, 
because  even  that  is  preferable  to  having  you  be- 
lieve that  I've  lost  my  self-respect.  I  am  packing  to 
leave,  and  I  have  to  save  my  coat  and  collar.  If  my 
linen  is  torn  and  soiled  it  is  because  I'm  inexperi- 
enced at  sewing  and  washing.  And  if  my  face  has 
developed  lines  they  have  not  come  from  opiates,  but 
from  hunger." 

"Hunger?" 

"Yes,  I  simply  haven't  been  getting  proper  food. 
Every  cent  of  my  money  is  spent.  You  must  not 
go  yet." 

(367) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I  came  only  because  I  thought  you  needed  help 
to  break  a  bad  habit." 

"And  now  that  you  are  here,"  he  laid  a  detaining 
hand  on  her  arm,  "there  are  some  other  things  you 
must  know.  We  are  both  going  away  from  Rosario, 
to  opposite  corners  of  this  continent.  I  have  told 
you  too  much  to  stop  now;  if  you  and  I  are  to  sep- 
arate with  you  fully  aware  of  the  circumstances  to 
which  I  am  reduced,  then  you  shall  also  learn  why 
I've  been  brought  to  this  condition.  I'm  too  good  a 
doctor  to  starve;  there  are  friends  and  opportunity 
awaiting  me  in  New  York,  but  not  even  the  com- 
bined spleen  of  a  whole  community  has  been  able  to 
drive  me  from  Rosario.  Do  you  know  why?  Re- 
gardless of  the  rights  of  any  others  I'm  going  to 
tell  you.  It's  because  I  love  you,  love  you  as  I  did 
that  Sunday  afternoon.  My  God,  how  the  months 
have  dragged  since  then,  and  every  minute  that  was 
spent  away  from  you  was  separate  torture !  It 
hasn't  been  hope  that  kept  me  here;  it  wasn't  an 
occasional  glimpse  of  you  that  offset  poverty;  there 
was  nothing  to  counterbalance  the  suffering.  I 
stayed  on,  not  because  I  wanted  to,  but  because  I 
couldn't  leave  you,  because  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  force  myself  away.  I'm  trampling  the  rem- 
nants of  my  pride  underfoot — " 

"You  said  you  were  speaking  regardless  of  the 
rights  of  others."  Her  quiet  voice  checked  him. 
"You  mustn't  do  that,  Robert.  Besides,  I  have  to 
hurry  home,  for  I've  a  good  deal  to  do  since  Ruth 
left." 

(368) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

"Is  Ruth  away?"  he  asked  mechanically,  from  a 
sense  of  politeness. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  not  heard 
that  she  was  married  last  Wednesday,  and  has  gone 
to  Mexico?" 

"Why  no,  whom  did  she  marry?" 

"Billy  Evans,  of  course." 

"Billy  Evans?"  he  repeated  incredulously.  "Billy 
Evans?"  The  possibilities  of  the  situation  were 
coming  to  him.  "Billy  Evans!"  he  fairly  shouted. 
"Why,  there's  no  one  else  who  has  any  rights." 

"Except  Mrs.  Richardson." 

"She's  been  gone  for — " 

"Yes,  but—" 

"Did  you  know  that  I  didn't  see  her  once  during 
the  last  month  she  was  here?" 

"No,—" 

"Do  you  care  to  know  why?" 

"Why,  really—" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you  that,  also.  It  was  because 
of  something  she  said  about  you.  We  talked  of  you 
a  great  deal." 

"You'd  no  right  ever  to  bring  in  my  name." 

"Every  right  in  the  world.  That's  why  I  was 
with  her  so  much." 

Frances  took  time  to  digest  this  remark.  Two 
wonderful  eyes  looking  steadily  at  Robert  began  to 
radiate  a  glorious  light,  but  the  hurt  had  been  too 
deep  and  of  too  long  duration  to  disappear  in  a 
moment.    So  Robert  again  took  up  the  conversation. 

"Not  at  any  time,  Frances,  was  either  of  us  the 
(369) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

least  interested  in  the  other.  We  were  both  playing 
a  game,  and  we  both  understood.  I  was  hungry  for 
someone  to  tell  me  about  you,  of  how  you  looked 
and  what  you  said,  and  where  you  went.  So  I  was 
drawn  to  her,  until  one  day  I  found  that  jealousy  and 
vanity  were  prompting  her  to  undermine  you.  There 
is  nothing  she  said  that  I  can  repeat,  no  single  word 
of  criticism,  no  expression  of  disdain,  but  the  time 
came  when  I  saw  through  her.  Since  then  I've  been 
more  lonely  and  more  hopeless  than  seemed  hu- 
manly possible.  I  knew  that  Billy  Evans  was  with 
you  all  the  time — oh,  you  cannot  understand." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Robert,  for  I  do  understand 
perfectly."  Then  she  abruptly  turned  to  another 
topic.  "Dr.  Ailing  told  us  that  you  had  just  missed 
becoming  famous." 

"I  wonder  what  he  thinks  of  me?" 

"He  didn't  say  much,  because — "  she  stopped, 
with  a  touch  of  confusion. 

"Because  your  father  wouldn't  allow  it,"  he  fin- 
ished for  her. 

"Father  has  never  forgiven  you  for  taking  the 
part  of  the  Japanese." 

"I  know,  and  probably  he  never  will.  They  came 
between  you  and  me,  too.  But  only  a  memory  sep- 
arates us  now.  I  was  right,  Frances,  but  if  you 
judge  me  wrong,  can't  you  come  to  me  knowing  that 
I've  more  than  atoned  for  any  error,  and  that  it  was 
one  that  cannot  be  repeated?" 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  her.  The  further  en- 
treaty that  he  might  have  voiced  was  written  on  his 

(370) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

face.  Desire,  heart  hunger  and  loneliness,  need  of 
her,  and  newly  awakened  hope  demanded  no  words 
to  establish  magnitude  or  sincerity.  And  ever  there 
came  to  her  face  more  of  softness,  her  eyes  half 
closed,  her  lips  parted  slightly  with  a  smile  of  con- 
tentment. And  then,  neither  ever  knew  how,  they 
were  in  each  other's  arms. 

"I  do  love  you,  Robert,"  she  heard  herself  saying, 
"and  I  do  not  judge  you.  There  is  nothing  between 
us  now,  for  if  there  were,  I  could  not  be  so  happy." 

So  in  the  supreme  moment  they  buried  the  com- 
plications that  had  come  to  them.  Their  irrecon- 
cilable attitudes  on  the  Japanese  question  at  one 
time  had  appeared  insurmountable,  but  now  that  the 
foreigners  could  no  longer  be  an  issue  the  subject 
was  scarcely  remembered.  Circumstances,  personi- 
fied by  the  small  yellow  man,  had  intervened  to  save 
them. 

Robert  was  the  first  to  come  back  to  earth. 

"I  hardly  have  the  right  to  speak  as  I've  done," 
he  said,  "I'm  too  poor." 

"Is  that  all?"  She  took  her  head  from  his  breast 
to  ask  the  question,  then  snuggled  into  his  arms 
again. 

"It's  too  serious  to  be  turned  aside." 

"You  will  have  to  take  up  that  work  in  New 
York." 

"The  salary  is  almost  nominal,  and  there  is  no 
prospect  of  advancement." 

"We'll  talk  it  over  some  other  time,"  she  said. 
But  seeing  that  he  was  not  satisfied,  and  being  de- 

(371) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

termined  that  there  should  be  no  disappointments  on 
this  day  of  days,  she  added,  "Show  me  your  labora- 
tory, and  tell  me  about  the  discovery  that  should 
have  given  you  a  world  wide  reputation." 

They  went  into  the  adjoining  room.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  shelves  holding  bottles  and  chemi- 
cals, and  there  were  the  conventional  bookcases  and 
the  paraphernalia  of  a  practicing  physician.  But 
the  implements  of  the  profession  were  pushed  to 
one  side  to  make  room  for  a  large  work  bench. 
Frances  noticed  with  a  pang  that  no  access  had  been 
saved  to  the  glass  sterilizing  stand  which  held  his 
instruments,  and  that  a  coat  of  dust  had  settled  over 
it,  even  to  the  knob  of  its  door. 

On  the  bench  were  eight  or  ten  cages  and  row 
after  row  of  racked  test  tubes.  The  pens  were 
empty,  though  they  bore  evidence  of  recent  occu- 
pancy. Nearly  all  the  glass  tubes  were  plugged 
with  absorbent  cotton. 

"This  is  the  scene,"  said  Robert.  "I  have  cleaned 
away  everything  except  those  racks,  but  they  are 
still  a  veritable  magazine  of  death." 

"Tell  me  what's  in  the  tubes." 

"Beef  broth.  Sometimes  we  add  agar  threads  or 
gelatine,  and  we  have  many  combinations  and  names, 
but  the  principal  is  juice  from  meat  or  some  other 
food." 

"And  the  cotton?" 

"Air  circulates  freely  through  it,  but  solids  no 
matter  how  minute,  do  not.  You  see,  we  sterilize 
our  culture  media,  and  keep  it  pure  with  these  plugs. 

(372) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

Then  we  can  plant  anything  we  choose.  For  in- 
stance, everyone  of  my  tubes  contains  pure  colonies 
of  the  bacillus  pestis." 

"It's  very  deadly,  is  it  not?" 

"In  many  respects  it  is  the  most  terrible  of  all  the 
disease  germs.    It  has  certainly  killed  a  billion  men." 

"I  wonder  how  it  would  feel  to  hold  so  much 
death  in  one's  hand.     May  I  pick  up  a  tube?" 

He  nodded  assent,  and  she  lifted  one  of  the  glass 
cylinders  with  her  left  hand,  the  right  being  other- 
wise engaged. 

"It  frightens  me,  yet  it  fascinates,"  she  said,  care- 
fully holding  it  to  the  light.     "It  looks  harmless — " 

How  it  slipped  from  her  fingers  can  never  be 
known.  The  upper  part  was  broken  when  the  light 
tube  crashed  to  the  bench,  but  the  lower  part,  pro- 
tected by  its  contents,  remained  intact.  It  was  roll- 
ing so  rapidly  towards  the  edge  of  the  table  that  even 
though  she  snatched  at  it  without  the  slightest  hesi- 
tation, she  was  barely  able  to  save  it  from  going  to 
the  floor. 

Frances  tendered  the  fragment  to  the  doctor, 
who  at  once  plugged  it  with  cotton.  He  reached 
for  a  bottle  of  alcohol  and  carefully  washed  her 
hands  and  his  own,  and  poured  a  cupful  or  more  on 
the  bench. 

"There  are  no  cuts  or  sores  on  your  hands?"  he 
asked.     "Not  even  hangnails?" 

She  told  him  there  were  not,  though  even  as  she 
answered  she  noticed  a  tiny  particle  of  glass  impaled 
on  her  wrist.     This  she  kept  carefully  concealed  by 

(373) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

her  sleeve,  partly  because  she  did  not  like  to  mention 
it  after  having  said  there  was  nothing,  partly  because 
she  did  not  choose  to  worry  him.  It  was  all  too 
trivial. to  deserve  a  thought  on  such  a  day  as  this. 
She  had  no  conception  of  the  risk  she  was  taking, 
and  she  had  been  too  excited  and  frightened  to  give 
much  heed  to  what  she  was  saying. 

But  the  little  accident  had  startled  the  pair  suffi- 
ciently to  bring  back  the  actualities  of  life.  Frances 
had  been  entrusted  by  her  mother  with  a  parcel  for 
Irving  Stanhope,  so  Robert  walked  with  her  to  the 
rectory.  Then  he  left  her,  after  arranging  to  come 
over  in  the  evening. 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  Coulters' 
Mexican  farm  hand  brought  him  a  note : 

"Dearest  Robert,"  he  read,  "I  told  Father  and 
Mother  something  of  what  happened  this  morning, 
and  I'm  afraid  things  are  not  to  be  as  we  wish.  I 
love  you,  Robert,  I  always  will,  and  I  know  that 
such  a  love  as  ours  cannot  lead  to  permanent  sep- 
aration. But  as  long  as  I  am  under  my  father's 
roof  I  must  respect  his  feelings,  when  they  are  as 
strong  as  they  are  on  this  subject. 

"You  and  I  are  to  have  no  communication  beyond 
this  note,  which  I  have  promised  to  make  as  formal 
as  possible. 

"Robert,  dear,  I  know  that  our  morning  was  not 
intended  to  be  fruitless,  I  know  that  in  some  way 
this  complication  will  adjust  itself.  For  I  believe 
in  you,  Robert  dear,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will 
come  for  me.     When  you  do,  whether  the  time  be 

(374) 


LOVE'S  CLEARING  HOUSE 

short  or  long,  you  will  find  me  waiting,  Robert,  wait- 
ing for  you. 

"Dear  heart,  will  it  help  you  any  to  be  told  that 
the  reading  of  this  note  cannot  bring  more  unhappi- 
ness  than  writing  it  has  done? 

"Always  yours,  F.  C." 


(375) 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Hanba  Coerces  Sam  Coulters 

C  AM  COULTERS  was  at  home  as  he  had  prom- 
*-*  ised  to  be.  He  was  seated  on  his  porch,  making 
at  least  a  pretense  of  reading  the  morning  paper, 
when  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  someone  in  the 
garden. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Coulters,"  said  Hanba, 
raising  his  silk  hat  and  making  a  most  elaborate  bow 
before  mounting  the  steps. 

Sam  allowed  the  hand  that  held  his  paper  to  fall 
by  the  side  of  his  arm  chair.  He  very  deliberately 
uncrossed  his  knees,  very  slowly  turned  his  body  un- 
til he  was  directly  facing  his  caller,  then  fastened 
upon  him  a  steady,  inquisitive  stare.  The  cold- 
blooded rudeness  of  this  reception  fairly  swept 
Hanba  off  his  feet.  He  had  expected  his  conde- 
scension in  being  the  one  to  make  the  call  to  be  rec- 
ognized, he  had  expected  to  have  a  seat  offered  him, 
and  refreshments  urged.  He  had  even  gone  so  far, 
while  walking  towards  the  Coulters  place,  as  to  run 
over  in  his  mind  some  of  the  phrases  to  be  used  in 
the  preliminary  exchange  of  compliments,  translat- 
ing them  tentatively  into  English,  so  that  they  would 
be  the  more  available.  And  here  he  was  like  a  truant 
schoolboy  before  his  master,  ill  at  ease  and  utterly  at 
a  loss  for  words,  forced  almost  to  apologize  for  his 
presence. 

(376) 


HANBA  COERCES  SAM  COULTERS 

"Those  others,  they  come  to  me  or  go  to  Mr. 
McGowan,"  he  found  himself  saying,  "but  you  are 
a  big  man,  Mr.  Coulters,  and  I  have  come  to  you." 
Hanba  smiled  happily;  surely  now  everything  would 
be  all  right. 

"So  I  see."  Sam's  tone  was  hardly  more  gracious 
than  his  words.  Ever  that  cold,  superior  stare,  that 
half  tolerant,  half  supercilious  awaiting  of  an  ex- 
planation. Irritated,  Hanba  dropped  the  role  of 
diplomat  for  that  of  master.  Why  endure  such 
treatment,  under  the  circumstances?  His  whole  de- 
meanor changed,  and  his  features  hardened  as  he 
turned  squarely  toward  the  American  that  he  might 
return  rudeness  for  rudeness. 

Hanba's  eye  met  the  other's  bravely  enough,  but 
almost  coincidentally  with  the  shock  of  the  conflict 
it  wavered  and  fell.  Let  us  not  blame  or  belittle 
the  Japanese.  He  was  a  foreigner,  handicapped  by 
unfamiliarity  with  language  and  custom,  and  he  was 
facing  Sam  Coulters. 

Thoroughly  displeased,  Hanba  again  found  him- 
self forced  to  speak,  so  he  tried  to  say  what  he  had 
originally  planned,  although  the  interview  was  not 
proceeding  at  all  as  he  had  intended. 

"Mr.  Coulters,  you're  a  big  man  and  I'm  a  big 
man."  Hanba  did  not  miss  the  fleeting  shadow,  the 
momentary  catch  of  the  breath.  So  far  from  being 
flattered,  the  farmer  was  surprised  into  showing 
just  a  color  of  the  disgust  and  resentment  that  came 
with  the  coupling  of  their  names  on  any  basis  of 
equality.    Hanba  concluded  that  any  further  attempt 

(377) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

at  finesse  would  be  a  waste,  so  he  bluntly  stated  his 
proposition : 

"Rosario  is  not  large  enough  for  two  big  men;  I 
want  you  to  go." 

Between  them  there  now  took  place  a  mental 
struggle  in  which  one  mind  was  yielding  to  the  other 
as  absolutely  as  though  the  two  were  in  physical 
contact.  Coulters  was  unconscious  of  this,  for  he 
had  domineered  his  way  through  life  and  had  always 
been  accustomed  to  the  acceptance  of  his  ideas. 
Hanba,  on  the  contrary,  was  acutely  aware  that  he 
was  encountering  a  will  stronger  than  his  own,  a 
fact  which  had  taken  him  greatly  by  surprise,  for 
he,  too,  unless  in  the  presence  of  an  official  superior, 
had  habitually  seen  his  opinions  override  all  others. 

The  Japanese  was  afraid;  he  was  honest  enough 
to  admit  as  much  to  himself.  So  far  from  having 
the  upper  hand,  he  was  learning,  as  had  many  a 
man  before  him,  that  not  only  was  it  impossible  to 
frighten  the  hardy  old  pioneer,  but  the  mere  making 
of  threats  to  him  entailed  insurmountable  obstacles. 
The  strength  and  fearlessness  of  Hanba  were  con- 
spicuous among  a  race  famous  for  these  qualities, 
and  yet  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  his  reluctance 
to  force  the  issue  and  to  make  his  demands,  sprang 
from  fear.  It  was  not  physical,  for  the  smaller  man 
knew  he  would  not  be  attacked,  and  it  was  not  moral, 
for  according  to  his  teachings  and  his  convictions  his 
position  was  defensible.  He  was  not  a  coward,  so, 
having  a  definite  task  to  perform,  he  resolutely  set 

(378) 


HANBA  COERCES  SAM  COULTERS 

about  it,  in  spite  of  being  possessed  of  fears  where 
he  had  expected  to  ride  at  ease. 

"We  Japanese  are  in  a  majority  in  the  valley,  Mr. 
Coulters.  So  when  there  is  another  meeting  of  the 
Rosario  Mutual  water  company  we  will  elect  at 
least  four  directors.  Mr.  McGowan  has  told  me 
how  to  do  that." 

Still  not  a  word  from  Sam,  only  that  steady  ex- 
pectant look  which  Hanba  could  not  endure. 

"They  elect  you  one  director,"  continued  the  lat- 
ter.    "Me,  I  am  the  other  four." 

After  a  moment  or  two  he  went  on,  there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  else  to  do.  "Saishoto  and  three  others. 
They  do  what  Saishoto  tells  them,  and  he  does  as  I 
direct.  You  see,  I  read  your  American  magazine; 
I  become  captain  of  finance." 

"I  suppose  you  think  you  can  manipulate  the 
stock.  What  are  you  going  to  do,  nickel  plate  the 
pipe?"  Sam  was  very  angry,  and  his  choler  was  fur- 
ther fed  by  the  returning  complacency  of  the  other. 

"No  assessments,  Mr.  Coulters,  for  we,  too, 
would  have  to  pay.  Can  you  not  see  that  unless 
you  leave  the  water  company  there  will  always  be 
discord?" 

"I  think  I  shall  continue  to  serve  as  long  as  I  am 
elected,"  said  Sam,  quietly. 

"But  if  we  lease  your  farm  you  will  not  remain  in 
Rosario." 

"You  can't  lease  it.  I  must  stay  here  to  help  my 
friends." 

"I  know,  but  we'll  lease  their  places,  too." 
(379) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Mr.  Hanba,  and 
interfere  with  your  plans  for  a  final  clean-up,  but 
none  of  us  will  rent  to  you."  Coulters'  elaborate 
sarcasm  passed  unheeded.  "Your  countrymen  have 
earned  a  reputation  for  squeezing  a  farm  for  its  last 
dollar  and  at  the  same  time  allowing  it  to  go  to 
ruin." 

"You  see,  we  can't  buy  anything  more,  Mr.  Coul- 
ters.    Our  money  is  all  spent." 

For  the  first  time,  Sam's  features  relaxed,  and  a 
smile  broke  out  upon  his  face. 

"So  we  will  lease  all  the  farms  left  in  Eden  Val- 
ley," the  Japanese  continued.  "Perhaps  some  time 
we  buy.    We'll  lease  with  an  option." 

"No  one  would  give  you  such  an  option,"  Sam 
replied. 

"And  we  will  pay  one-sixth  of  the  crop — " 

"What  are  you  trying  to  get  at,  Hanba?  You 
know  as  well  as  I  that  that  is  not  half  enough." 

"And  we  will—" 

"Your  plans  will  not  work,  Hanba.  You  know 
you  cannot  lease  for  more  than  three  years,  and  in 
that  time — " 

"We  will  lease  for  twenty-one  years." 

Sam  smiled  indulgently.  "Ask  your  friend  Mc- 
Gowan  about  the  law." 

"I  did  so,  and  he  told  me  we  could  have  seven 
different  tenants  and  consecutive  leases,  each  of 
three  years.    One  commences  when  another  expires." 

The  blow  went  home.  If  McGowan  had  said  so, 
it  probably  was  true,  and  if  that  were  so  the  anti- 

(380) 


HANBA  COERCES  SAM  COULTERS 

alien  land  law,  California's  only  protection,  might 
as  well  be  repealed.  Sam  was  silent  for  the  mo- 
ment, readjusting  himself  to  the  altered  situation, 
and  fighting  the  disappointment.  How  he  had 
worked  for  that  law,  and  how  he  had  counted  on  its 
forever  putting  an  end  to  such  aggression.  There 
came  from  the  housetop  the  notes  of  a  mocking  bird, 
imitating  the  whistle  of  some  young  turkeys.  Sam 
remembered  how  originally  the  incident  had  not  only 
amused  him  but  had  also  upset  the  mother  of  the 
brood.  He  could  see  her  yet,  flustered  and  uneasy, 
trying  to  collect  her  offspring,  and  never  quite  sure 
whether  or  not  one  of  them  was  missing.  A  homely 
little  incident,  but  this  was  home,  and  it  was  en- 
dangered. 

The  way  the  Rosarian  turned  in  his  chair  was 
enough  to  shatter  Hanba's  complacency,  was  enough 
to  undermine  the  elation  that  had  come  to  him  when 
he  felt  that  the  hardest  part  of  the  struggle  lay  be- 
hind and  that  he  had  become  master  of  the  situation. 

"I  will  not  retire  from  the  board  nor  will  I  lease 
my  farm.  Is  there  anything  else  you  wanted  to  say 
to  me?"     Sam's  attitude  was  a  virtual  dismissal. 

It  required  all  the  courage  the  other  could  muster 
to  answer. 

"You've  forgotten,  Mr.  Coulters,  that  even  if 
there  be  discord,  the  directors  of  the  water  company 
will  still  obey  me." 

"What  can  they  do?"  asked  Sam  uncompro- 
misingly. 

(381) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"There  is  the  distribution  of  the  water,  for  in- 
stance— " 

"Wait  for  me  a  minute;  I  want  my  copy  of  our 
by-laws."  Coulters  stepped  into  the  house.  He 
called  for  Frances,  and  as  she  came  from  another 
room  he  viciously  snapped  at  her,  "Where  are  the 
books  of  the  water  company?" 

She  looked  at  her  father  amazedly,  so  palpably 
hurt  that  he  hardly  had  the  heart  to  continue. 

"Here  they  all  are,"  she  said,  handing  some  vol- 
umes to  him.  He  picked  out  one,  and  as  he  did  so, 
contrived  to  speak  to  her  in  a  low  tone. 

"I  want  you  and  your  mother  to  slip  off  your 
shoes,  and  overhear  the  rest  of  this  conversation. 
That  caller  of  mine  may  spend  a  good  part  of  the 
next  few  years  in  jail." 

As  Sam  came  back  to  the  porch  he  was  turning 
over  the  pages.  "You  were  speaking  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  water,"  he  said.  "Let  me  read  you 
a  few  rules  from  this  book,  and  you  will  see  that 
the  water  must  be  divided  fairly  and  equally  and 
there  must  be  no  discrimination." 

"Mr.  McGowan  tells  me  that  no  matter  what  that 
book  says,  that  we  Japanese  can  use  almost  all  the 
water.  We  can  let  our  share  run  until  nearly  the 
end  of  the  month,  then  allow  you  others  to  draw 
yours." 

"You  mean  that  we  have  to  stand  all  the  leak- 
age?" 

"Mr.  McGowan  says  that  we  could  give  you  your 
water  the  first  few  days  of  one  month,  and  the  last 

(382) 


HANBA  COERCES  SAM  COULTERS 

few  days  of  another.  What  would  be  the  effect  on 
your  trees  of  their  going  unirrigated  nearly  sixty 
days?" 

"Is  that  what  you  propose  to  do  unless  we  lease?" 

"That  is  one  of  the  things  Mr.  McGowan  tells 
us  we  might  do." 

"When  we  controlled  the  water  we  were  careful 
to  give  you  exact  justice.  Do  you  feel  under  no 
obligation  to  reciprocate?" 

"Mr.  McGowan  says — " 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  between  man  and  man,  Hanba, 
there  are  some  things  which  are  not  done.  I'm 
not  asking  for  myself,  but  those  people  down  the 
valley  put  their  savings  into  these  places  and  made 
them  their  homes.  Can't  you  understand  that  such 
a  thing  as  jockeying  their  water  supply  is  simply 
not  to  be  considered?" 

"Mr.  McGowan—" 

"Are  you  going  to  go  as  far  as  he  says  the  law 
permits?  Are  you  a  human  being  or  a  machine? 
Have  you  or  the  people  for  whom  you  work  no 
other  consideration,  no  higher  ideals,  than  just  the 
one  of  money  returns? 

"Hanba,  you  must  have  some  soul,  or  you  could 
not  belong  to  a  race  which  will  make  such  sacrifices 
as  yours.  You  have  your  ideals,  we  have  ours.  The 
directors  of  that  water  company  are  put  on  their 
honor  to  handle  it  fairly,  you  are  succeeding  to  the 
trust.  You  can  see  that  what  you  propose  is  virtual 
stealing.  Have  you  no  conscience?  No  sense  of 
right  and  wrong?" 

(383) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"A  man  might  pay  out  a  few  dollars  that  way, 
Mr.  Coulters,  but  this  is  a  case  involving  a  good 
many  thousand.  I  can  do  far  more  with  that  much 
money  than  spend  it  to  satisfy  some  ideals  which  are 
yours,  not  mine.  Mr.  McGowan  told  me  to  be  very 
careful  to  make  no  threats,  not  even  to  tell  you  what 
we  were  going  to  do,  for  you  might  have  me  ar- 
rested if  I  did.  He  told  me  to  give  you  these  leases, 
he  said  that  once  you  understood  the  matter  thor- 
oughly, you  and  the  others,  that  all  of  you  would 
sign." 

Hanba  brought  a  handful  of  papers  from  an  in- 
side coat  pocket.  Sam  looked  them  over  carefully; 
like  all  McGowan's  work  they  were  accurate  and 
precise.  There  were  spaces  for  a  great  many  sig- 
natures, Sam  noticed,  and  he  knew  that  all  the  other 
names  would  follow  as  a  matter  of  form  once  his 
own  was  subscribed.  He  looked  again  at  that  smirk- 
ing face  standing  beside  him,  he  saw  the  blunt  end 
of  a  fountain  pen  extended  to  him,  and  once  again 
he  was  seized  with  red  hot  passion,  with  the  lust  of 
fight.  His  fingers  itched  to  grasp  that  little  yellow 
neck,  to  go  down  with  it  into  a  death  grapple,  to 
end  forever  the  enmity  and  the  menace. 

But  there  were  other  considerations  and  other 
people.  There  was  no  alternative  but  to  add  to  the 
long  list  that  had  preceded  one  more  sacrifice,  and 
the  noblest  of  them  all.  Satisfied  that  Hanba  would 
and  could  carry  out  his  threats,  having  exhausted 
every  resource  and  finding  himself  thwarted  at  every 
turn,  Sam  took  the  pen  and  went  over  the  leases 

(384) 


HANBA  COERCES  SAM  COULTERS 

word  by  word.  While  he  was  making  such  changes 
as  he  wished,  his  fertile  brain  was  seeking  some  ave- 
nue of  escape,  but  when  he  had  consumed  as  much 
time  as  he  decently  could,  he  affixed  his  signature 
and  walked  into  the  house  for  Mary's.  Forcing 
himself  to  violate  every  fibre  of  his  nature  he  handed 
the  executed  agreements  to  Hanba,  and  watched  the 
Japanese  depart  with  pockets  bulging  from  the  fruits 
of  victory. 

Sam  dropped  into  his  chair  again,  tired  from  the 
strain  and  feeling  his  years  as  he  had  never  done 
before.  On  the  western  horizon  some  clouds  were 
banked  to  catch  the  setting  sun.  Unseeing  and  un- 
thinking, he  watched  the  great  orange  globe  slip 
into  its  couch.  He  knew  Mary  was  on  the  side  of 
his  chair,  knew  that  her  arm  was  about  his  shoulder 
and  her  cheek  against  his  head,  knew  that  she  too 
was  watching  the  coming  of  the  night. 

The  ball  of  fire  dropped  behind  the  dark  curtain, 
yet  flung  a  semi-circle  of  long,  straight  beams  as  a 
promise  of  its  return.  Along  the  edge  where  the 
clouds  were  not  so  dense  as  to  be  opaque,  there  came 
a  fringe  of  celestial  light,  brilliant  beyond  anything 
mundane.  As  the  heavens  grew  darker  and  de- 
veloped areas  of  deep,  blood  red,  the  contrast  be- 
came stronger,  and  there  came  to  the  couple  on  the 
porch  a  barely  recognized  yearning  to  exchange  their 
dismal  surroundings  for  the  glories  beyond  their 
grasp. 


(385) 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

The  Bubonic  Plague 

O  AM  COULTERS  was  pacing  up  and  down  his 
^  garden.  One  more  trouble  had  come  to  him, 
for  Frances  lay  in  her  bed  stricken  as  with  typhoid 
fever.  Even  now  Dr.  Hill  was  making  his  daily 
visit,  while  the  anxious  father  waited  to  hear  the 
latest  report. 

Sam  had  seen  enough  of  the  ups  and  downs  of 
life  to  have  proved  his  character  to  himself  as  well 
as  to  others.  He  was  fully  aware  that  he  had  a  big 
fighting  heart,  and  an  unusual  courage,  both  physical 
and  moral.  But  he  also  knew  his  limitations,  knew 
that  he  could  do  justice  to  himself  only  when  stand- 
ing on  his  feet  and  fighting.  In  the  long  series  of 
misfortunes  which  had  recently  overwhelmed  him, 
he  had  usually  found  his  hands  tied  when  he  tried 
to  strike.  He  had  been  compelled  to  yield  peace- 
fully, but  he  had  not  done  so  with  resignation,  for 
the  passion  of  battle  which  had  found  no  outlet 
burned  all  the  more  fiercely  within.  Pent  up  anger 
was  making  him  desperate  and  he  struggled  against 
it  fiercely  and  unreasonably  like  a  wild  animal  caught 
in  a  trap. 

When  Hollington  opened  the  gate  and  swung 
down  the  path  Coulters  turned  to  him  with  savage 
joy.  Here  at  last  was  someone  on  whom  he  could 
vent  his  feelings  without  danger  of  injury  to  others. 

(386) 


"When  barely  two  yards  separated  them,  Robert's  hand 
shot  out  of  his  coat  pocket." 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

The  doctor  was  slightly  disconcerted,  for  he  had  not 
expected  to  meet  anyone  before  reaching  the  house, 
so  Sam  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You're  not  wanted  here,  young  man." 

"I  came  to  see  Frances,  because — " 

"I've  no  interest  in  why  you  came." 

"Listen,  Sam — " 

"I've  told  you  to  leave;  this  is  my  private  prop- 
erty." 

"Will  you  hear  what  I  have  to  tell  you?" 

"I  will  not.    You  are  ordered  off  my  place." 

"It's  about  Frances." 

"I  will  choke  you  before  I  let  you  mention  her 
name  to  me.  You  pose  as  a  man  who  would  have 
sacrificed  a  whole  community  before  he  would  have 
done  anything  not  absolutely  right;  and  now  you 
trespass  on  my  farm,  violating  good  taste  and  the 
law  as  well." 

"It's  not  typhoid  that  she  has — " 

"I  have  tried  everything  else,"  said  Sam,  picking 
up  a  convenient  mattock  handle.  The  remnants  of 
his  temper  were  gone,  completely  and  absolutely. 
He  advanced  slowly  on  Robert,  giving  him  every  op- 
portunity to  leave  peacefully,  but  there  was  no  doubt 
of  the  menacing  attitude,  nor  of  what  would  happen 
should  the  younger  man  remain. 

When  barely  two  yards  separated  them,  Robert's 
hand  shot  out  of  his  coat  pocket,  and  Sam  found 
himself  looking  into  the  muzzle  of  a  very  business- 
like revolver.  His  anger  and  his  frame  of  mind 
were  such  that  even  a  threat  to  shoot  would  not  have 

(387) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

stopped  him.  But  an  old  ingrained  habit  did,  a 
respect  for  firearms  engendered  in  the  frontier  days 
brought  an  instant  of  hesitation  which  Robert  was 
quick  to  seize. 

"I  couldn't  kill  you,  Sam,  you  know  that.  But  if 
you  come  a  step  closer  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  your 
leg.  I  have  come  here  to  do  certain  things.  I  shall 
carry  out  my  purpose  in  any  event,  and  it  rests  en- 
tirely with  you  whether  or  not  you  lie  here  with  a 
useless  leg  while  I'm  doing  it." 

Sam,  leaned  on  his  hickory  club  and  studied  his 
opponent.  It  was  the  crafty  Sam  of  old,  cool  and 
collected  once  again,  now  that  the  issue  was  fairly 
defined.  He  looked  calmly  at  the  thirty-eight,  he 
noticed  that  its  chambers  were  loaded,  that  the  hand 
which  held  it  was  too  steady  to  pull  the  trigger 
prematurely.  He  saw  Robert  lower  the  weapon, 
and  knew  by  that  act  alone  that  the  young  man  was 
in  earnest,  for  if  the  play  had  been  staged  in  a  spirit 
of  bravado  the  gun  would  have  been  kept  in  evi- 
dence as  much  as  possible.  The  older  man  looked 
into  the  other's  face,  and  read  there  that  this  much 
of  the  affair  was  a  disagreeable  incident,  read  there 
the  truth  of  the  spoken  words. 

Then  the  front  door  was  opened  by  Dr.  Hill. 
Robert  increased  the  distance  between  himself  and 
Coulters  by  backing  down  the  pathway.  Then  he 
suddenly  turned  and  covered  the  other  doctor  with 
his  revolver.  That  fat  and  pompous  little  gentle- 
man crumpled  with  terror. 

"Pick  up  your  bag  and  stand  beside  Mr.  Coul- 
(388) 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

ters,"  Robert  ordered,  and  when  he  had  been  obeyed 
he  continued,  "Are  you  treating  Miss  Coulters  for 
typhoid  fever?" 

For  one  moment  a  lifelong  devotion  to  medical 
ethics  made  Hill  forget  his  fear:  "Sir,  I  cannot  dis- 
cuss my  patient,"  he  said. 

"You  can  and  you  will.    Answer  me." 

The  other  wilted.   "What  do  you  want  to  know?" 

"Are  you  treating  her  for  typhoid?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  satisfied  with  your  diagnosis?" 

"Certainly." 

"What  have  the  temperatures  been?" 

"From  a  hundred  and  four  to  a  hundred  and 
five." 

"When  were  you  called?" 

"Yesterday." 

"Splitting  headache?" 

"Yes." 

"Delirium?" 

"Yes." 

"Eyes  inflamed?" 

"Yes." 

"Tongue  dry?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  her  lungs  affected?" 

"No." 

"Any  blood  in  her  sputum?" 

"No." 

"Or  septicemia?" 

"No." 

(389) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

"Have  you  noticed  any  swelling  in  the  glands?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  neck  and  under  her  shoulders." 

"What  size?" 

"As  large  as  my  thumb,  or  larger." 

"Bluish  black  in  color,  with  a  dash  of  dull  red?" 

"Yes." 

"She  has  the  bubonic  plague,  Sam,  and  she  will 
be  dead  in  forty-eight  hours  unless  something  is 
done." 

Coulters  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation 
with  an  absorbed  interest.  He  was  still  resting  on 
the  handle  of  his  mattock,  poised,  tense,  and  mo- 
tionless, his  mind  alert  while  he  patiently  awaited 
the  outcome  of  the  discussion.  Now  he  turned  to 
Hill,  and  abruptly  demanded  if  Hollington's  state- 
ments were  true. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  the  doctor.  "She  has  ty- 
phoid and  nothing  else.  It  is  a  tricky  disease,  and 
often  runs  to  peculiar  complications.  Besides,  how 
on  earth  could  she  have  contracted  the  plague?" 

"By  breaking  a  test  tube  of  bacilli  pestis  in  my 
laboratory.  She  must  have  had  a  scratch  or  a  sore 
that  I  failed  to  see." 

"I  am  thoroughly  tired  of  this  conversation,"  said 
Dr.  Hill,  whose  courage  was  returning.  He  had 
fully  decided  that  Robert  was  bluffing,  for  he  was 
deceived  by  the  calm  and  quiet  manner  which  told 
Sam  that  the  boy  was  more  dangerous  and  more  in 
earnest  than  ever. 

(390) 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

"You  have  not  heard  the  last  from  your  high- 
handed methods,"  continued  the  little  man.  "You 
shall  be  severely  disciplined  for  this,  sir,  very  se- 
verely disciplined.    I'm  going  back  to  the  house — " 

"You're  going  out  of  the  front  gate,"  said  Rob- 
ert, "and  you're  not  coming  back.  From  now  on 
I  will  have  charge  of  this  case." 

Hill's  face  turned  a  pasty  white  when  he  realized 
how  grievous  had  been  his  error.  He  picked  up 
his  medicine  case,  which  had  fallen  to  the  ground, 
and  disappeared  incontinently  among  the  shrubbery. 
Sam  watched  him  with  an  air  of  disgust,  then  turned 
to  Mary,  who  was  coming  from  the  porch. 

"I'll  have  this  highbinder  arrested,"  he  said  to 
her,  "and  bring  Hill  back  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning." 

"But  Robert  is  right,  Sam,"  she  said.  "I've  over- 
heard every  word,  and  I  know.  Frances  showed  me 
where  she  had  taken  a  splinter  of  glass  from  her 
forearm." 

"Look  at  him,"  Sam  answered  impersonally,  "it's 
all  the  raving  dreams  of  a  drug  fiend.  You  know 
what  a  fetish  he  has  always  made  of  never  doing 
anything  that  violated  his  ironclad  code  of  ethics. 
You  know  that  neither  for  himself  nor  for  us  nor 
for  Rosario  would  he  ever  compromise  at  all.  You 
know  he  was  always  careful  of  his  appearance, 
respected  all  the  conventions  of  society,  and  fairly 
worshipped  those  of  his  profession.  Do  you  believe 
that  he  would  have  drawn  a  gun  on  me,  would  have 
threatened  Hill  as  he  did,  if  he  had  been  himself?" 

(391) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

Mary  looked  into  Robert's  eyes.  He  was  restive, 
for  he  didn't  know  how  to  counter  Sam's  passive 
resistance,  and  so  didn't  meet  her  scrutiny  as  well 
as  he  could  have  wished.  But  she  was  searching 
his  soul,  in  utter  disregard  of  his  appearance  or  his 
actions.  It  was  of  her  daughter  that  she  was  think- 
ing, and  knowing  more  of  what  had  passed  between 
the  young  people  than  did  the  father,  she  realized 
that  there  were  other  things  than  drugs  that  would 
account  for  the  change.  Furthermore,  Frances  had 
convinced  her  that  the  stories  about  Robert,  espe- 
cially those  referring  to  morphine,  were  without 
foundation.  It  was  true  that  there  was  an  abun- 
dance of  evidence  to  substantiate  Coulters'  opinions, 
the  haggard  and  desperate  face,  the  stubby  growth 
of  beard,  the  rumbled  hair  and  hatless  head,  the 
soiled  and  wrinkled  clothing. 

Yes,  Robert  had  fallen,  but  when  she  caught  the 
gentleness  that  joined  determination  in  those  clear 
grey  eyes,  when  she  read  in  his  half  parted  lips  the 
longing  to  have  her  become  the  only  mother  he 
had  ever  known,  the  rough  exterior  faded;  she  saw 
only  the  soul  within.  When  his  revolver  was  slipped 
back  to  his  pocket,  showing  her  that  even  in  this 
extremity  there  could  be  no  violence  in  her  pres- 
ence, she  knew  that  however  greatly  mistaken  he 
might  be,  his  motives  and  his  sincerity  were  not 
open  to  doubt.  When  he  tacitly  admitted  that  hers 
was  the  final  arbitrament,  she  could  only  compare 
his  knowledge  and  efficiency  with  the  self-sufficient 
egoism  of  Dr.  Hill,  the  special  skill  of  one  man 

(392) 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

with  a  diagnosis  which  she  fully  believed  to  be 
faulty.  What  was  best  for  Frances  was  the  only 
consideration;  to  questions  of  friendship  or  enmity 
or  medical  ethics  she  was  alike  indifferent.  She 
freely  accepted  her  responsibility  to  decide,  and 
acted  so  quickly  as  to  astonish  both  men. 

"Come  with  me,  Robert,"  she  said,  "I'll  take 
you  to  Frances'  room." 

But  Sam,  though  ready  to  sacrifice  anything  to 
his  daughter's  welfare,  was  yet  so  far  under  the  in- 
fluence of  passion  and  prejudice  that  he  believed 
Dr.  Hill  was  right;  believed  in  all  sincerity  that 
what  Mary  proposed  would  subject  Frances  to  great 
danger.  So  his  anger  flared  up  once  more,  and 
again  he  became  the  primitive  male  whose  strongest 
instinct  was  to  protect  his  household. 

"Mary,  this  man  is  crazy  and  he  shall  not  go  near 
her.  He  is  our  enemy,  he  is  unworthy  and  unfit, 
and  we  will  not  be  accessories  to  his  crime." 

"But  Frances  will  die,  Sam." 

"So  he  says,  but  I  believe  the  sane  doctor.  Mary, 
do  not  be  insistent,  for  I've  decided,  as  in  a  case 
of  this  kind  is  my  right." 

"Your  right !  Yours !  Is  there  no  other  who  has 
rights?  Who  bore  that  child?  Who  nursed  her  in 
her  tender  years  and  brought  her  up  to  woman- 
hood? Sam,  are  you  going  to  carry  your  personal 
dislike  so  far — " 

"I  must  follow  the  dictates  of  my  judgment, 
Mary." 

"You  come  with  me,  Robert,"  she  said,  her  voice 
(393) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

cold  as  ice.  "If  you  have  to,  you  may  use  your 
revolver." 

"All  right,  then,  shoot,"  said  Sam.  "I'll  call  your 
bluff  if  it  is  one.  If  it's  not — well,  I've  a  duty  to 
discharge  regardless  of  consequences." 

"It  is  not  a  bluff.  And  it  is  unnecessary  for  you 
to  be  injured  in  order  to  have  revenge.  Dr.  Hill 
will  have  me  expelled  from  the  medical  fraternity, 
state  and  national.  I  will  probably  never  be  able 
to  practice  again.  If  that's  not  enough,  I  give  you 
my  word  that  I  will  take  my  own  life  at  once  in  case 
Frances  dies,  if  in  return  for  that  promise  you  con- 
sent to  my  going  to  her.  It  may  be  hard  for  you 
to  realize  that  she  means  more  to  me  than  she  does 
either  to  you  or  to  her  mother.  If  she  had  typhoid 
she  is  now  in  no  particular  danger,  but  if  she  has 
the  Black  Death  she  is  certain  to  die  unless  my  serum 
will  save  her.  You  have  read  enough  to  know  that. 
Do  you  understand  why  I  am  going  to  her,  regard- 
less of  consequences?  Do  you  not  think  that  you 
had  best  accept  my  offer?" 

"I  do.    But  I'll  make  you  keep  it,  my  fine  fellow." 

"I'll  not  be  giving  much,"  said  Robert,  with  a 
sigh;  "I'll  pay  it  gladly." 

In  the  darkened  sick  room  was  Frances,  in  a  con- 
dition bordering  between  sleep  and  unconsciousness. 
Robert  pushed  up  the  sleeves  of  her  loose  night 
dress,  and  exposed  the  horrible  buboes  in  her  arm- 
pits. He  opened  the  gown  in  front,  to  disclose  a 
chest  dotted  with  purple  spots,  and  he  made  a  cur- 

(394) 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

sory  examination  of  her  face,  especially  her  eyes 
and  mouth. 

"It's  the  plague,"  he  said  briefly,  drawing  from 
his  pocket  a  carefully  prepared  package.  Rubbing 
her  arm  with  a  piece  of  gauze  saturated  in  alcohol, 
he  inserted  his  hypodermic  needle. 

Four  days  later,  he  was  again  speaking  to  Mary 
in  the  sick  room.  "I'm  getting  so  faint  that  I'm  apt 
to  drop  at  any  moment.  If  I  do,  watch  Frances. 
At  the  slightest  change,  wake  me.  Use  this  hypo- 
dermic if  I  don't  respond  to  ordinary  means.  I 
have  already  taken  far  more  stimulant  than  is  safe. 
Watch  her,  and  at  the  slightest  change — "  and  for 
the  first  time  in  over  a  hundred  hours  he  closed  his 
eyes. 

Mary  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  "I  always  did 
like  that  boy,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Whatever  Ro- 
sario  may  have  done  to  us,  it  certainly  has  made  a 
man  of  him." 

Minute  after  minute  passed.  Sam  tiptoed  beside 
her  and  held  her  hand — how  long  neither  of  them 
knew.  And  they  waited  and  watched  for  the  change. 
Time  and  again  they  thought  it  was  coming.  Twice 
Sam  even  rose  to  wake  the  sleeper.  Then  it  did 
come,  quickly  and  unmistakably — and  Robert,  sup- 
porting himself  with  both  hands  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  was  staring  at  the  hectic  face. 

He  staggered  across  the  room  and  dropped  upon 
the  couch.  He  was  crying,  not  with  the  suppressed 
weeping  of  a  man,  but  with  utter  abandonment. 
Mary  crossed  the  room  and  slipped  his  revolver 

(395) 


THE  INTERLOPERS 

from  his  coat  pocket.  Handing  it  to  her  husband, 
she  put  her  hand  gently  on  Robert's  shoulder. 

"Is  there — no — hope?" 

"Hope?  Why,  mother,  the  girl  is  well" — and  he 
fainted  dead  away. 


Doctors  Barton  and  Reed  were  asking  for  Rob- 
ert. Dr.  Barton,  his  card  showed,  was  head  of  the 
state  board  of  medical  examiners.  Dr.  Reed,  it 
appeared,  was  chairman  of  the  board  of  trustees  of 
the  California  hospital.  They  looked  at  Robert, 
when  Mary  told  them  that  he  had  fainted  twelve 
hours  before.  Dr.  Barton  assured  her  that  all  was 
well,  and  that  the  sleeper  would  wake  before  long. 
Mary  asked  them  to  see  Frances.  They  pronounced 
her  free  from  fever,  and  on  the  road  to  rapid  re- 
covery. Then  Dr.  Barton's  eyes  fell  on  the  chart, 
after  which  everything  else  was  forgotten  by  both 
men. 

Two  hours  later  Robert  awoke.  He  went  in  to 
see  Frances,  and  then  was  introduced  to  his  callers. 

"I  see  you're  from  the  state  board,"  he  said.  "I 
had  almost  forgotten  Dr.  Hill.  You  can  do  no  less 
than  your  duty,  and  I  know  what  that  means." 

"If  you  will  excuse  my  saying  so,  Dr.  Hollington, 
we  would  hardly  be  here  in  person  to  settle  a  dispute 
between  two  country  doctors,  though  it's  true  that 
we  first  learned  of  this  case  through  Dr.  Hill.  We 
represent  the  California  Hospital,  and  came  because 
we  heard  that  you  were  administering  your  serum 
to  a  plague  suspect  for  the  first  time  in  history. 

(396) 


THE  BUBONIC  PLAGUE 

Your  patient  and  your  chart  prove  that  yours  is  a 
triumphant  success,  that  the  Black  Death  is  now 
under  control.  But  we're  convinced  that  technique 
is  half  the  battle ;  we  offer  you  a  position  on  our 
hospital  staff  at  your  own  salary." 

And  Sam  was  the  first  to  congratulate  him. 


(397) 


rS 


aARY  FACILITY 


A    000  038  728     2 


